Ai 


•kt>. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


In* 

^  us, 


2.0 


u  mil  1.6 


V] 


^ 


/a 


^/,. 


^ 


^     4fe.    #  .^.^ 


'/ 


/A 


fliotographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


# 


■1>^ 


\ 


iV 


:\ 


\ 


.-'iv 


^<2> 


.V 


^ 


4, 


<> 


"^^ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


\  ^  I 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  4t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  pouvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


□    Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagde 


D 
D 

D 
D 
D 
D 

D 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicul6e 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  tin  couleur 


D 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intArieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplimentaires; 


Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6color6es,  tachetdes  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachdes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppiementaire 


D 


n/^^ 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc..  ont  6t6  film6es  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


I    n/This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

I j]    Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


y 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
gdnirositi  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iteeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6x6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  rexemplaira  fiimd,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  film6s  en  commen^ant 
par  le  p  emier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmis  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END  "), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  y  signifie  "FIN  ". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmis  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  &  partir 
de  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suit/ants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

'"•••*•■■      I     rill 


I 


THROUGH  EVANGELINE'S 


COUNTRY 


I 


i 


1 


^■■■■■■■■WP 


;  ti,;r^^a«*«-'r"VriiPN 


1  (l-*  «  --   »  .  -v.  • 


THROUGH    EVANGELINE'S 


COUNTRY 


iw  ji:anmktti-:  a.  (;i<a\t 


n.r.USTRATED 


"  Then   he   helielii,  in    a    dream,  once   more   Hie   home   of  his 
childhood  ; 
Green  Acadian  nteadoics,  with  sylvan  rivers  amoui,'-  Hum 
Villai^e     and    mountain     and    woodlands;     and   walking 

under  their  s/iado'o, 
As  in  (he  days  of  her  youth,  Evangeline  rose  in  his  vision:' 


BOSTON 

JOSEPH  KNIGHT  COMPANY 

1894 


/ 


CoPYRir.HT,  1893 
BY 

Joseph  Knight  Lumpany 


C  Sable        ^>r 


''^"WTlrttlH"""' 

■if" 


MAP 

Evangeline's  Country. 

PUBLISHED   BY 

Joseph  Knight  Company, 

BOSTON. 


CONTENTS. 


Part  I.     A  Bit  of  History. 
A  Bit  of  Acadian  History 

Part  II.     The  Acadia  of  To-day. 

Chapter     I.     The  Border  Land,  Yarmouth 
Chapter  II.     By  Saint  Mary's  Bay 

(Meteghan,  Church  Point.) 

Part  III.     Old  Acadian  Haunts. 
Chapter    I.     Annapolis  Royal 

(Old  Port  Royal  of  the  French.) 

Chapter  II.     In  the  Annapolis  Valley     . 

Part  IV.     The  Poefs  Acadia. 

Chapter     I.     The  Cornwallis  Valley 
Chapter  II.     Grand  Pr6 


I'AGE 


19 


25 


57 
66 


79 
89 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Evangeline,  from  a  painting  by  Edwin 

Douglass         ....       Frontispiece 
Map  of  Evangeline's  Country 
Old  Magazine  at  Annapolis  . 
Jacques  Cartier 
Entrance  to  Annapolis  Basin 
Samuel  Champlain 
Halifax  —  View  from  Citadel 
Near  Annapolis  Basin  . 
Yarmouth      .... 
Yarmouth  Harbor 
Near  Yarmouth     . 

Digby 

Byway  near  Digby 

A  Nova  Scotia  Cottage 

Lighthouse,  Saint  Mary's  Bay 

Railway  Bridge  at  Bear  River 

On  the  Way  to  Annapolis    . 

Evening  Shadows  in  the  Acadian  Land 

Fragment  of  Old  French  Fort  at  Annapolis 


PAGE 


3 
8 

9 

ID 
I  I 

i6 

19 
21 

24 

25 
26 

ZZ 
49 
51 

57 

59 
62 


X  LIST    ()1-    ILLLSIRATIONS. 

Scenery  near  Annapolis  .... 

Apple   Blossoms,  Annapolis  Valle\ 

Apple  Orchard,  Annapolis  Valley  . 

Annapolis  River 

"Aground  in  the  shallow  River  lay  a  Schooner" 

Orchard  in  IMoom 

Apple  picking 

Wolfville,  not  far  from  Grand  Pr6 

Minas  Basin — Blomidon  in  the  Distance 

"A  Vessel  lay  on  the  Stocks'' 

Cutting  through  an  Orchard 

The  Gaspereau  \'alley  ..... 

Grand  Pr6  Village,  Home  of  Evangeline 

Old  Blacksmith  Forge,  Grand  Pr6 

Old  Willows— Grand  Pr6      .... 

"Away  to  the  northward  Blomidon  rose"    . 

Old  Acadian  Graveyard,  Gaspereau 


PAGB 

63 

66 

71 

76 

79 
80 

81 

83 
86 

88 

89 

91 
93 
95 
97 
99 


I 


PART  I. 


A  BIT  OF  HISTORY. 

^^I.ist  to  the  mournful  tradition  still  snti^  by  the  pines  of 
the  forest^'' 


% 


OLD  MAGAZINK  AT 
ANNAPOLIS. 


H: 


A   BIT   OF   ACADIAN    HISTORY. 


While  lovers  love  and  hearts  are  true, 
the  story  of  Evangeline  will  never  lose  its 
interest.  As  long  as  the  pages  of  history 
find  readers,  the  record  of  the  expulsion 
of  the  French  inhabitants  ot  Acadie  will 
never  cease  to  stir  the  sympathies  and 
awake  the  indignation  of  him  who  reads. 
Whatever  be  the  point  of  view,  that  strug- 
gling fragment  of  a  nation,  fighting  for 
existence  against  fearful  odds,  treasuring 
in  its  heart  an  ideal  king  and  mother 
country,  stands  out  pathetically  clear  from 
its  sombre  background. 

No   one   can    study   the  history  of  the 


TIIKOUCII    EVANCEI.INKS    fOL'NTRV 


m : 


I:  k 


French  colonists  in  North  America  with- 
out pity  for  their  lot  and  admiration  lor 
their  steadfastness.  Like  wayward  chil- 
dren deprived  of  parc^ntal  oversight,  they 
forgot  the  Golden  Ruk;,  and  retaliated 
even  to  the  uttermost  when  assailed  ;  but 
by  so  doing  they  thought  to  vindicate  not 
only  their  personal  rights,  but  the  honor 
of  France  and  the  majesty  of  their  king. 
Alas  for  their  mistaken  zeal !  That  king 
had  little  thought  for  these  far-away  colo- 
nists, and  but  small  appreciation  of  their 
loyalty,  unless  it  showed  itself  in  the  form 
of  revenue  for  the  royal  coffers.  More- 
over, the  affairs  of  France  were  in  sad 
disorder,  and  her  monarchs  lived  in  fear 
of  assassination  at  home,  and  in  deadly 
feud  with  their  neighbors.  Treaty  after 
treaty  was  signed,  and  the  colony  of 
Acadie  was  given  now  to  France  and  now 
to  England,  with  as  little  concern  as  a 
man  is  given  or  taken  on  a  checker-board. 
Great  worldly  wisdom  would  be  required 
by  that  colonist  who  to-day  is  a  subject 
of  France,  and  to-morrow  finds  that  against 
his  will  he  has  been  transformed  into  a 
subject  of  England,  to  enable  him  to  be 
faithful  in  both  conditions.  The  Acadians 
were  not  worldly  wise ;  they  were  a  simple- 


A    IHT    ol'    ACADIAN    IIISTOUV. 


hearted  people,  wlio  believed  what  their 
j)riests  told  them,  and  \v(;rc  proud  of  beinj^ 
French  subjects.  Loyalty  was  a  strikinj^ 
characteristic  among  them,  and  it  is  but  a 
poor  kind  of  lo)alty  that  can  change  the 
object  of  its  tklelity  in  a  day,  or  even  in 
a  year.  Compulsory  loyalty,  if  such  an 
anomaly  can  exist,  is  a  weak  substitute 
for  that  which  is  freely  given.  It  is  no 
wonder  th(;n  that  the  British  governors  of 
Acadia  were  tlissatisfied  with  the  sem- 
blance of  allegiance  which  had  been  wrung 
from  the  F^rench  subjects  of  their  English 
sovereign. 

It  was  not  until  the  faithful  colonists 
had  learned  the  futility  of  appeal  to  their 
French  king,  and  had  suffered  much  from 
their  misplaced  confidence,  that  they  were 
able  at  last  to  see  the  wisdom  of  striving 
to  become  loyal  subjects  of  the  monarch 
into  whose  power  their  destiny  had  given 
them.  To-day  the  Acadian  French  of 
Nova  Scotia  are  considered  good  citizens, 
who  desire  the  advancement  of  the  Prov- 
ince, for  whose  possession  their  ancestors 
endured  so  much.  They  have  a  romantic 
attachment  for  the  land  of  their  birth, 
where  so  many  tender  memories  of  the 
past  survive.     As  a  people  they  are  united 


6  TIIKOLGII    KVANGELINK  S    COUNTRY. 

by  the  strongest  tics,  a  common  ancestry, 
a  common  religion,  and  common  traditions. 

The  historical  facts  wiiich  led  up  to  the 
climax  known  as  the  expulsion  of  1755 
are  briclly  as  follows  :  — 

In  the  year  1497,  five  years  after  the 
great  discovery  by  Columbus.  John  and 
Sebastian  Cabot,  in  the  employ  of  Henry 
the  Seventh  of  England,  visitetl  the  eastern 
shores  of  North  America  in  the  vicinity  of 
Labrador.  No  settlements  were  made,  but 
the  mere  discovery  gave  England  a  slight 
claim  to  the  rt^gion. 

Three  years  later,  in  1500,  a  Portuguese 
adventurer,  Caspar  de  Cortereal,  reached 
Labrador  and  spent  some  time  in  fol- 
lowing the  coast  northward,  for  the  object 
of  all  these  early  navigators  was  to  find  a 
northwest  passage  to  India. 

After  four  years  French  fishermen  found 
their  way  to  that  storehouse  of  finny  treas- 
ures,—  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland.  In 
1524,  the  king  of  France,  Francis  the 
First,  sent  out  a  Florentine  named  Veraz- 
zano,  to  make  a  French  claim  in  the  New 
World,  for  Spain  and  Portugal  were  getting 
on  much  too  fast  to  suit  their  royal  neigh- 
bor. Verazzano  reached  a  portion  of  the 
Atlantic  coast  which  is  supposed  to  have 


•iiiiP 


A     III  r    (>!•     .\(  AhlAN     IIISKiKV. 


S. 


le 

ul 
ry 
rn 
of 
ut 
ht 

se 
ed 
)l- 
:ct 
la 

nd 
is- 
n 
le 
iz- 
sw 

h- 

he 

ive 


betMi  what  is  now  North  CaroHna.  He, 
too.  follovvi'd  the  coast  iiortlnvard,  cxplor- 
\n^  some  s(!ven  huiulrcd  hta^ues.  He 
called  the  whole  rci^doii   New  I'rance. 

VVh(Mi  three  years  more  had  passed,  an 
i'jijj^lishman.  one  Thomas  'I'horne,  was  in- 
spired to  attempt  th(!  investigation  of  the 
North  American  coast  as  far  as  the  North 
Pole.  Henry  the  I'-ighth  gave  him  two 
ships  for  the  trij).  Thorne  only  reached 
the  entrance  to  the  (iulf  of  Saint  Law- 
rence, when  one  of  the  ships  was  cast 
away.  The  other  went  south  again  as  far 
as  Cape  Iketon  and  thence  returned  home. 

In  1534  we  see  France  again  looking  up 
her  claims  in  this  much-visited  region,  and 
Jacques  Cartier  lands  in  New  Brunswick, 
where  he  finds  the  country  very  pleasing 
and  the  natives  friendly.  The  next  year, 
with  greater  facilities  for  discovery,  Cartier 
returned  and  viewed  the  sites  of  the  future 
cities,  Quebec  and  Montreal.  And  once 
again  did  Cartier  find  his  way  to  the 
country  that  was  henceforth  to  be  known 
as  Canada, — a  name  borrowed  from  the 
little  Indian  village  of  Kannata.  Elabotate 
preparations  for  founding  a  French  colony 
had  been  made.  The  office  ot  Viceroy 
was  conferred  upon  Roberval,  under  whose 


8 


TIIKOLiJII    KVANCKI.INKS   COUNTRY. 


prL'cctliii<4    Kohcrval    to    tlic 


name  the  colony  is  known  in  history. 
Carticr  liad  charj^c  of  tlic  llect.  He 
s(;('iiis  to  have  acted  (|iiit('  intli'|K'n(ltMitl)'. 

New  World 
and  desert- 
ing^ him  to 
r'turn  to 
iraticc'  vvh(?n 
it  I )  1  e  a  s  I!  d 
hims(;lf.  This 
colony  of 
1 54 1  proved 
a  failure,  as 
did  several 
o  t  h  e  r  s  a  t  - 
tenipttHl. 

It  was  not 
until  the  year 
1604  that  an 
actual  settle- 
ment w  a  s 
made  in  what 
we  now  call 
Nova  Scotia. 
It  was  then 
that  the  truly  romantic  history  of  Acadie 
began.  The  settlers  came  from  France, 
and  all  expected  to  grow  rich  by  trading 
in  furs.     Their  leader  was  De  Monts,  who 


CARTIIiK. 


^ 


m 


A    1111    Ol     ACADIAN    lIISTOkV.  9 

h(.'kl  his  coininissioii  from  I  Iciiry  the 
T'ourth  of  I'Vaiicc — "King  llciiry  of 
Navarre."  They  sailed  about  t\\r  soiitlicrn 
aiul  vv('st(!rn  coasts  of  ylart/ic,  aiul  when 
they  ciucn'd  th(?  Ix'aiitifiil  l)0(ly  of  water 
now  known  as  Amiapolis  Ikisin,  Cham- 
plain,  who  hail  eoininand  of  the  vessels, 
named  both  the  harbor  and  the  river  llovv- 


ENTRANCK   TO   ANNAI'f^MS   BASIN. 


ing  into  it.  Port  Royal.  No  other  place 
pleased  them  so  well,  and  there  they  de- 
cided the  following  sprinor  to  build  their 
town,  which  also  bore  the  name  Port  Royal. 
And  here,  indeed,  was  the  capital  of  Acadia 
until  the  founding  of  Halifax  by  the  Eng- 
lish in  1749. 


^^m 


lO        TIIROL'C;n    EVANC.ELINES    rOUNTRV. 


m',. 


Surely  no  community  ever  lived  amid 
more  romantic  surroundings  than  did  the 
colonists  of  Port  Royal.  They  had  many 
trials  and  deprivations  in  their  new  home 

in  the  wil- 
derness, but 
they  con- 
trived va- 
rious  fes- 
tivities to 
brighten 
their  lot. 
Among 
their  num- 
ber were 
gentlemen 
who  had 
been  accus- 
tomed to 
court  life, 
and  each 
did  his 
share  to 
entertain  his 
companions. 
Fifteen  of  the  leading  men  organized  a 
social  club  styled  T/ie  Order  of  the  Good 
Time  (L  Ordre  de  ban  Temps).  Feasting 
on  the  best  that  could  be  procured — and 


CHAMPLAIN. 


""'**- 


A  nrr  oi-  acauian  iiistorv. 


13 


fish  and  game  were  plenty  —  was  followed 
by  story  telling,  in  which  the  Indians,  who 
mingled  picturesfiuely  with  the  company, 
took  a  part.  The  old  chief,  Membertou, 
rich  in  the  experiences  of  his  hundred 
years,  was  an  honored  guest  at  the  ban- 
quets. 

Meanwhile  the  English  had  made  a  set- 
tlement in  Virginia.  When  they  learned 
that  there  were  T^rench  settlers  on  the 
same  coast,  although  eight  hundred  miles 
distant,  they  decided  to  drive  them  away. 
So  three  armed  vessels  under  a  piratical 
commander,  named  Argal,  were  sent  to 
destroy  all  the  forts  and  dw^ellings  of  the 
F'rench.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  even 
this  outrage  failed  to  enlist  any  aid  from 
France ;  the  unhappy  colony  of  Port  Royal 
was  left  to  its  fate :  and  the  sole  basis  of 
English  claim  to  this  region  was  the 
Cabot  discoveries  of  1497  and  1498! 

This  claim  the  P^nglish  continued  to  en- 
force, and  James  the  First  gave  a  grant  of 
what  is  now  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Bruns- 
wick to  a  Scotch  favorite.  Sir  William 
Alexander,  who  made  luckless  attempts  at 
planting  a  colony. 

Then  in  1627  a  w^ar  broke  out  between 
the  two  home  countries.     Cardinal  Riche- 


14       TIIKOUGII    EVANGELINE  S   COUNTRY. 

lieu  had  formed  a  new  company  which  was 
to  have  a  monopoly  of  the  fur  trade  in 
"  New  France."  An  English  squadron 
captured  Port  Royal  and  several  French 
vessels  on  their  way  to  Acadie  with  ammu- 
nition and  stores.  And  so  the  conflict 
went  on,  the  unfortunate  Acadians  always 
getting  the  worst  of  it.  The  New  England 
Colony,  feeling  that  there  was  no  room  on 
their  borders  for  the  French,  strove  in  their 
usual  vigorous  fashion  to  persecute  rather 
than  to  be  persecuted.  A  doom  always  hung 
over  the  French  attempt  to  possess  terri- 
tory in  North  America.  Through  the  long 
years  between  the  first  settlement  in  1604 
to  the  Treaty  of  Paris  in  1763,  Acadia  was 
a  stage  whereon  French  actors  played  a 
many-acted  tragedy.  For  this  reason  Aca- 
dia and  the  Acadians  always  touch  a  ten- 
der chord  in  generous  hearts.  Who  can 
refuse  sympathy  to  the  heroes  of  a  lost 
cause  ? 

The  quarrels  between  France  and  Eng- 
land went  on  into  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  The  warlike  spirit  of 
the  mother  countries  was  abroad  in  the 
colonies.  Expeditions  from  New  England 
brought  havoc  upon  the  Acadians  in  return 
for  what  was  considered  sufficient  provo- 


A    lilT    OF    ACADIAN    IIISTORV 


15 


cation.  At  last  in  ijio,  Port  Royal  was 
captured  by  New  Kngland  troops,  and 
three  years  later  peace  was  concluded  in 
the  Old  World  by  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht. 
Nova  Scotia,  Newfoundland,  and  Hudson 
Bay  Territory  were  then  ceded  to  Great 
Britain.  The  name  of  Port  Royal  was 
changed,  in  honor  of  the  English  queen,  to 
Annapolis  Royal.  The  French  inhabitants 
of  the  whole  region  were  then  considered 
as  having  no  right  to  remain  unless  they 
would  take  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
British  Crown.  Naturally  they  did  not  feel 
inclined  to  take  such  an  oath,  and  of  course 
their  English  victors  could  not  feel  safe 
with  this  spirit  in  their  midst.  They  felt 
that  "to  the  victors  belong  the  spoils," 
that  Acadia  was  theirs  by  right  of  conquest 
and  treaty;  while  the  early  inhabitants,  still 
hoping  that  their  French  monarch  would 
come  to  their  rescue,  could  not  make  up 
their  minds  to  desert  his  cause. 

Thus  things  went  from  bad  to  worse, 
and  no  definite  agreement  could  be  made. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  on  many  occasions 
the  French  were  aggressive,  but  the  Eng- 
lish were  equally  so.  It  is  certain  that 
they  feared  their  intractable  neighbors, 
and   could  see  no   way  to   settle   matters 


n^ 


iO         rilkOLClI    K\  AN(iEl.L\ES    aUNTKY. 

save  by  riisorting  to  extreme  nu;asures. 
To  their  aid  came  that  stanch  New  Kng- 
lancl  spirit  vvhicii  hanged  vvom(;n  as  witches, 
and  ground  Oiiakers  to  death  for  not  tak- 
ing an  oath.  It  was  a  Massachusetts  com- 
mander whr  most  rigorously  executed  the 
cruel  orders  concernin<x  the  Acadians ; 
and,  as  if  to  atone  for  his  countryman's 
harshness  toward  th(i  poor  French  exiles, 
it  was  a  gentle-hearted  New  England  poet 
who,  nearly  a  century  afterward,  wrote  the 
poem  of  "  Evangeline."  — 

"  A  tale  of  love  in  Acadie,  home  of  the  happy." 


NEAR   ANNAPOLIS   BASIN. 


PART  11. 


THE  ACADIA  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  /;/  ///,■  /i.hcrm ail's  cot  the  ivhcd  ami  the  Ivoin  nrr  still  busy; 
Maiii'eits  siill  uuar  th.ir  Norman  caps  and  tlutr  /drths  of 

honu'spnn, 
And  by  the  evening Jlrc  repeat  PLvani^eline's  story." 


^^p 


I! 


VAK.MOL'III. 


CHAPTKR  I. 


THE    IJORDER    LAND,    YARMOUTH. 

To  read  the  poem  of  "  Evangeline"  upon 
the  very  shores  where  its  thrilHng  scenes 
were  enacted,  is  to  greatly  marvel  at  that 
poetic  insight  which  enabled  Longfellow 
to  so  perfectly  portray  a  landscape  which 
he  never  saw.  It  is  the  first  part  of  the 
poem  only  that  deals  with  the  region 
known  as  "  The  Land  of  Evangeline." 
The  second  part  follows  the  Acadians  into 
their  places  of  exile,  and  especially  con- 
cerns the  fate  of  the  lovers,  Evangeline 
and  Gabriel.  The  story  of  the  expulsion 
and  scattering  is  well  known,  but  there  is 


20 


TIIK()l(;H    KVANCKIINF,  S    COlNrkV. 


a  continuation  of  the  story  which  is  not 
less  fascinating.  It  shows  even  better 
tlian  the  channin<r  hexamc^tiTS  of  the  poet 
how  strong  was  the  Acadian's  love  for  his 
native  land,  and  how  bitttn*  must  have  been 
his  enforced  separation  from  it. 

"Only  alimjj  tlie  shores  of  the  mournful  and  misty  .Atlantic 
I.iii^jL-r  a  few  Acadian  peasants,  wliose  futlurs  from  exile 
Wandered  l)acU  to  their  native  land  to  die  in  its  iiosom." 

History  and  e.xistinij'  circumstances  tell 
us  that  of  the  three  thousand  (;\iles  who 
were  carried  out  of  Acadia  in  1755.  about 
two  thirds  n^turned,  in  spite  of  op|)()sition 
and  hardships,  to  find  new  homes  in  such 
places  as  wc;re  not  occupied  by  the  Hn^- 
lish.  Some  found  their  perilous  way  back 
in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  and  others 
were  weary  years  in  reachini^  the  home  of 
their  youth.  The  beautiful  valley  which 
had  been  for  them  the  scene  of  so  much 
horror  was  never  to  be  again  an  Acadian 
settlement.  Strangers  soon  took  posses- 
sion of  it  and  shut  out  the  old  dwellers, 
even  had  they  had  the  heart  to  return.  It 
is  in  another  part  of  the  Acadia  of  to-day 
that  we  must  seek  the  descendants  of  the 
exiles  of  1755. 

A  pilgrim  to  Nouvelle-Iicosse,  the  French 
name   for   Nova    Scotia,    has    to-day   the 


'IIIK    ItOKDKK    I.AM),    VAKMorill, 


21 


choice  of  mail)'  routes.  1 1  \nt  desire,  as 
did  the  pilj^rrim  wlio  now  writes  of  lier 
visit  to  Acachaii  slirines,  to  reach  the 
abode  of  Acadian  iiianners  and  customs, 
h(;  can  find  no  pleasanter  way  than  by 
goin^  (hrect  from  IJoston  to  N  annoutli. 
A  period  of  seventeen  liours  suffices  to 
brii\<;  your  st(;amcM'  into  the  most  o|)a(|ue 


NAK.NMl'Tll    IIARHOK. 


of  Fundy  fogs  and  plant  her  firmly  in  the 
unsavory  mud,  until  the  tide  serves  to  float 
her  to  the  wharf.  To  the  voyager  from 
the  West  Country  the  grim  dampness  and 
enforced  delay  are  trying.  He  longs  to 
go  ashore,  to  run  the  gantlet  of  the 
customs  officers,  and  —  have  breakfast. 
He  tells  the  steward  of  his  desires,  and 
receives  the  bland  reply,  — 


22       TIIKOU<ill    KVAN(iKI,INES   COUNTKV. 


"  Rrt'akfast  is  read)  in  the  saloon  !" 

Yt't  who  that  has  comt:  up  on  ticck.  cajT^or 
to  land  on  an  unknown  shore,  would  wisli 
to  return  to  th(;  stilling  atmosplicrc  "  be- 
low "  tor  breakfast? 

"Thank  >()U,  but  I  will  wait."  is  the 
somewhat  stiff  r(!ply  directed  at  ihv.  white- 
jacketcnl  steward,  who  is  already  far  spetl 
on  one  of  his  many  errands. 

Once  ashore  and  s(;ttled  in  the  comfort- 
able though  not  luxurious  hotel,  the  fog 
ceases  to  annoy,  and  you  tind  it  quite 
warm  enough  as  you  walk  about  the  Yar- 
mouth streets,  so  delightful  in  their  nov- 
elty. In  the  shop  windows  you  see  Knglish 
goods,  and  are  almost  surprisetl  that  the 
prices  are  not  marked  in  Knglish  money. 
At  the  house  windows  are  great  clusters 
of  pelargoniums  in  lovely  tints,  expanding 
in  the  moist,  mild  air.  And  the  hawthorn 
hedges !  Sometimes  you  pass  a  street 
where  house  after  house  has  its  wall  of 
green  hedge,  and  as  you  look  up  the 
street,  the  effect  is  an  English  picture. 
Here  and  there  one  sees  straggling 
growths  that  suggest  the  careless  owner, 
but  for  the  most  part  the  hedges  uf  Yar- 
mouth are  well  kept  and  a  delight  to  the 
eye. 


THE    IIOHDKK    lAM),    VARMOITII. 


23 


The  himinosity  of"  the  atmosphere  gives 
ont!  th('  fin(;st  etfccts  in  laiulscajx;  and 
marine.  Mere  tor  a  nionieiit  the  sun, 
pushing  asick?  the  gray  curtain  of  tog, 
touclies  into  clear  outHne  an  anticjiK! 
gable;  there  tht;  sail  ot  a  )acht,  caught 
by  the  tieeting  brightness,  gleams  white 
from  afar.  See  yonder  shore*  as  it  comes 
into  misty  prominence  and  fades  again 
from  view — a  vista  from  dr(.'amland  —  a 
Fata  Morgana !  This  is  a  land  tor  poets 
and  dreamers,  for  seers  and  idealists, 
this  country  by  tht;  I^'undy  Hay.  Let  not 
the  realist  bring  hith(T  his  palette;  of  glar- 
ing tints  and  his  brushes  of  coarse  fibre, 
for  this  is  an  l^^nchantecl  Land,  and  only 
he  who  bears  with  him  the  magician's 
lamp  can  see   its  beauties  aright. 

The  Clare  Settlements,  where  live  the 
descendants  of  the  exiles,  lie  a  little  to 
the  north  of  Yarmouth.  There,  at  a  place 
called  Meteghan,  my  guide-book  indicated 
an  interesting  settlement  and  a  fine  French 
Catholic  church.  In  the  post-office  at 
Yarmouth  was  a  young  assistant,  whose 
liquid,  dark  eyes  suggested  I'Vench  ances- 
try. I  asked  her  if  she  came  from  Clare, 
but  she  said  no.  Then  the  postmaster 
came  forward   and  advised   me   to   go  to 


inn 


'I'    1 


24       THROUGH    KVAXGEl.INES    COUNTRV. 

Ptibnico  rather  than  to  Clare,  for  there,  he 
said,  lived  the  famous  descendants  of  the 
old  family  of  D'Entremont,  in  whose  v^eins 
runs  some  of  the  bluest  blood  of  France. 
Later  research  proved  that  Pubnico  is  con- 
sidered the  oldest  Acadian    settlement  in 


..^^M^: 


NEAR    VARMorrll. 


■N , ^,-- 


the  world,  for  its  people  returned  to  the 
same  locality  when  their  exile  was  ended. 
Pubnico,  with  such  attractions,  was  hard  to 
resist,  but  it  lay  in  an  opposite  direction 
from  Meteghan  ;  and  there  I  had  decided 
to  spend  Sunday. 


-                ^ 

■t'"' 

^             f  ,  c  > 

•'.'•Li 

i 

«  ■ 

DIGBY. 


CHAPTER  II. 


1'  1 


'I 


'I    1 


by  saint  marys  bay. 
(meteghan,  church  point.) 

The  Clare  Settlements  are  in  the  south- 
western part  of  Digby  County.  They  bor- 
der on  an  arm  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy  called 
Saint  Mary's  Bay.  Ihis  beautiful  stretch 
of  water  was  named  by  Champlain.  At 
various  points  along  its  shore  settled  those 
Acadians  who  returned  from  exile.  Here 
their  descendants   live  quietly  and    speak 


ill 


\K\ 


26   THROUGH  EVANGELINe's  COUNTRY. 

the  language  of  their  ancestors.  They  re- 
tain many  of  the  old  customs,  and  give 
little  thought  to  the  outside  world. 

The  railway  from  Yarmouth   to  Annap- 
olis  does    not   skirt   the    shore    of    Saint 


BYWAY  NEAR   DIGBY. 


Mary's  Bay,  but  runs  through  a  rather 
monotonous  landscape.  The  true  way  to 
enjoy  the  beauties  of  any  country  is  to 
walk  or  drive  through  its  byways.  This 
is  especially  true  of  Nova  Scotian  scenery, 
and  every  native  will  advise  the  tourist  to 


BY   SAINT   iMARV  S   UAV. 


27 


drive.  But  this,  in  out-of-the-way  places, 
is  extremely  difficult  to  do,  for  the  few 
horses  have  their  appointed  daily  tasks, 
and  there  are  none  for  extra  occasions. 
Therefore,  the  best  that  can  be  done  is  to 
travel  by  rail,  tarrying  at  various  points  of 
interest  long  enough  to  see  them  satisfac- 
torily. 

The  morning  of  my  trip  to  Meteghan 
was  foggy,  and  little  could  be  seen  from 
the  car  window.  Several  young  women 
got  in  at  way  stations,  and  left  us  again, 
having,  by  their  voluble  remarks  to  one 
another,  proved  that  they  were  Acadian 
French.  The  handsome  and  dignified  old 
conductor,  who  looked  ]''ke  a  Scotch  doc- 
tor of  divinity,  seemed  uncertain  about 
hotel  accommodations  at  Meteghan.  He 
came  to  see  his  passenger  off  the  train 
when  it  stopped  at  the  modest  station 
which  seems  at  first  glance  a  veritable 
"  house  in  the  woods."  Then  the  train 
rolled  away,  and  the  passenger  was  left  at 
the  mercy  of  the  few  station  officials  and 
the  other  arrivals,  all  standing  about  and 
chattering  French.  Prominent  in  the  group 
was  ^he  ^o(erepresen<aaveof  the  sole  pub- 
lic h(;use  c  f  Meteghan,  into  whose  care  the 
conductor  had  consigned  the  "woman  who 
wanted  to  visit  the  French  people." 


W 


.!ii: 


•.Mi 

■  1.: 


'  It 
.%  ••<B>, 
■  ^ 

m 


\\ 


mMuswmnmrr'fm 


28       THROUr.H    EVANCEI. ink's    COUNTRY. 

The  landlord  was  not  a  Frenchman,  but 
he  gave  orders  to  his  servant  in  very  good 
French,  collected  his  passengers  in  the 
same  tongue,  and  occasionally  reassured 
his  guest  in  softly  spoken  English.  At 
length  the  luggage  was  safely  stowed  into 
a  light  wagon  and  started  on  its  way.  The 
passengers  were  to  follow  in  the  mail  coach, 
—  for  the  good  landlord  carries  her  Majesty's 
mails, —  and  he  was  himself  our  driver. 

There  was  quite  a  group  of  home-comers, 
sons  and  daughters  of  Meteghan,  who  had 
come  from  Boston  for  their  vacation. 
French  was  the  medium  of  conversation, 
and  for  some  time  the  stranger  listened 
only  to  the  happy  gossip  of  her  compan- 
ions, who  were  all  old  acquaintances  glad 
to  be  together  again.  At  length  she  ven- 
tured a  carefully  constructed  remark  in 
their  language,  and  was  met  with  cordial 
and  voluble  appreciation. 

''  Elle  parle  fran(ais,  elle  compvend ! 
Vous  parlez  fran^aisf  Out,  vous  paries 
bien!  " 

And  of  course  they  could  all  speak  Eng- 
lish, for  they  were  earning  their  living 
among  English-speaking  people.  So  the 
conversation  became  general,  and  English 
or  French  was  spoken  as  it  happened. 


I!V    SAINT    MARYS    |;A\- 


29 


It  was  a  deliorhtful  drive;  of  six  miles  to 
the  town.  As  we  readied  the  lone  street, 
our  companions  left  us,  one  after  another, 
at  the  pretty  cottages  at  whose  gates  stood 
expectant  friends.  There  was  among  the 
home-comers  a  rather  unimpressive  young 
fellow  of  some  twenty  years,  who  talked  a 
good  deal  and  assumed  worldly  ways. 
Two  children  stood  at  a  house-door  wait- 
ing for  this  big  brother,  their  faces  bright 
with  expectation.  As  the  coach  approached 
the  house,  he  swung  himself  down,  without 
waiting  for  the  horses  to  be  pulled  up. 
Rushing  toward  the  little  ones,  he  seized 
them  in  his  arms  and  kissed  them  with  the 
perfect  abandon  of  affection.  It  was  a 
touching  Acadian  tableau  ! 

The  pretty  girl  on  the  back  seat  con- 
tinued to  the  hotel.  She  was  the  land- 
lord's daughter,  and  before  I  left  we  had 
become  very  good  friends.  The  family 
consisted  of  several  grown-up  daughters, 
and  a  son,  a  gentle-eyed  belle-ntere,  and 
three  small  children.  Not  a  word  of  un- 
kindness  nor  an  angry  tone  was  to  be 
heard.  When  by  themselves  they  always 
spoke  French. 

The  hotel  was  one  of  the  oldest  houses 
in    Meteghan,  and  the  landlord  was    pre- 


f  :■ 


'v 


I  m 


iaMu.jiiu»JH>.ui..iL.^uun 


30       THROUGH    EVAN(iEI.I\ES   COUNTRY. 

paring  to  remodel  it  and  make  it  more 
suitable  for  a  public  house.  He  had  en- 
joyed a  monopoly  of  the  commercial 
travellers  and  rare  tourists  who  came  his 
way,  and  being  honest  and  unwilling  to 
run  in  debt  had  deferred  his  repairs  too 
long.  All  that  housewifely  care  could  do 
to  make  the  superannuated  rooms  attrac- 
tive was  done.  At  the  front  of  the  house 
was  an  old  porch  with  a  seat  built  along 
one  side  —  a  suggestion  of  that  in  the 
house  of  Benedict  Bellefontaine,  — 

"  Rudely  carved  was  the  porch,  with  seats  beneath"  ; 

and 

"There  in   the  shade   of  the  porch  were  the  priest    and  the 
notary  seated." 

It  has  always  been  the  custom  in  Aca- 
dian villages  to  build  the  houses  along 
both  sides  of  one  long  street.  Allusion 
to  this  fact  occurs  in  the  poem, — 

"  When  brightly  the  sunset  lighted  the  village  street," 
"  Solemnly  down  the  street  came  the  parish  priest," 
"  Down  the  long  street  she  passed." 

The  street  at  Meteghan  is  lined  with 
houses  for  a  distance  of  perhaps  a  mile. 
Some   are   old    and  weather   beaten,    but 


15Y    SAINT    MARYS    KAY. 


31 


many  are  trim  cottages  with  porches  and 
bay-windows,  and  pretty  bits  of  garden  in 
front.  Sitting  at  the  wide  front  window 
of  the  pubHc  sitting-room  at  the  hotel, 
one  could  see  across  the  way  the  neatest 
of  white  cottages  with  piazza,  bay-windows, 
and  the  characteristic  roof  window  of  '*  the 
Provinces,"  known  as  the  A  window.  In 
its  white-fenced  garden  stood  tall  holly- 
hocks of  rich  wine  color.  Beyond  the 
cottage  lay  the  bay,  obscured  often  during 
my  stay  by  rain  or  mist. 

The  family  of  my  host  were  anxious  to 
aid  me  in  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  Aca- 
dian manners  and  legends.  On  the  first 
afternoon  the  belle-viere  took  me  to  visit 
the  priest,  who  is  much  beloved  by  his 
parish.  They  say  they  owe  their  fine  brick 
church  to  his  efforts ;  that  he  freely  gave 
of  his  own  means  to  build  it,  had  the  bricks 
made,  and  induced  the  people  to  haul  them 
with  their  ox-teams  to  the  site  of  the  church. 
They  are  proud  of  his  energy,  but  fail  to 
equal  it  in  their  own  lives.  The  church  is 
a  tall  edifice  with  two  spires,  standing 
upon  elevated  ground  and  facing  the  bay. 
As  it  is  visible  for  miles  on  the  sea,  it  has 
received  the  name  Stella  Maris  —  Star 
of  the    Sea.     Priest  and  people  love   the 


%:'■: 


V 


,.;'; 


!  m 


r-mi 


i'likoicii  evan(;ei.i\es  coixtkv. 


.ifice  which  is  so  directly  the  pm(hict  of 
their  own  incUistry. 

We  went  throiiLi^h  oik;  of  the;  h'ont  ^ates, 
walkinj^  bet\v(;c;n  the  chiircli  aiul  the  ji;rav(;- 
yartl  toward  the    priest's  dwelHiiLi^    in    the 
rear.       A.  flaxen-haired  little    maid    and  a 
shaj^^y    terrier   gave    us    a    shy   welcome. 
As  the  door  was  wide   open  antl   no  one 
else  appeared,  we  entered  and  took  s(?ats 
in  the  parlor,  while  the  little  maid  went  in 
search  of  "  auntie,"  who  presently  came  to 
give  us  w(;lcome.     After  a  little  the  good 
father  appeared,  and  although  he  had  been 
awakened  from    his  after-dinner  nap,  was 
very  gracious.      He  regretted  that  he  could 
not  throw  much  light  upon  early  Acadian 
history.     Although  he    hail    ministered   to 
Acadian  parishes  for  thirty  years,  he  was 
not  a  Frenchman.      He  mentioned  several 
French  priests  whom    I  would  meet  as  I 
went  on  my  journey.     It  was  a  little  dis- 
appointment not  to  find  an  Acadian  priest 
at  Metecrhan  ;  it  would  have  been  more  in 
harmony  with    people    and    place,    and  — 
more  like  the  poem.     Still  these  people  love 
their    priest   even  as  those  at  Grand  Pre 
loved    the    good    Father    Felician.       He 
speaks  their  language  well,  and  they  seem 
to  know  no  difference. 


\i\    SAIN  r    .MAk\  S    IIAV. 


33 


Later  in  the  (la\  tlu;  LftMitlc  AdcK*  took 
me  to  visit  tlui  oldest  woman  in  the  village, 
one  Madame  'riiibedeaii.  She  was  adi^j^ni- 
tied  and  amiable  old  lady,  very  proud  of 
heinjj^  the  j^reat-granddaiighttT  of  an  Aca- 
dian exile.  Her  maiden  name  was  /hu- 
cette,  — a  name  which  figures  in  the  annals 
of  Ac  a  die. 
Pierre  l)ou- 
cette.  the  ex- 
ile, had  been 


A    NOVA    SCOTIA  COTTAllE. 


a  resident  of  Port  Royal  prior  to  the  ex- 
pulsion, and  was  transported  by  the  P^ng- 
lish  to  the  vicinity  of  Casco  Bay.  With 
his  companions  he  made  his  way  back  to 
the  shores  of  Bale  Sainte- Marie. 

The  little  house  where  madame  and  her 
husband  live  was  the  picture  of  neatness. 


;  ^ 


~w-^ 


34       TIIKOUCill    EVANCiEl.INES   COUNTKV. 

The  floors  and  stairs  were  painted  yellow, 
as,  indeed,  they  often  are  in  Acadian  cot- 
tages. At  the  windows  were  pretty  bloom- 
ing house  plants,  —  one  a  sweet-scented, 
old-fashioned  "  monthly  rose."  None  of 
this  family  could  speak  English.  They 
had  preserved  their  language  as  well  as 
their  traditions. 

On  Sunday  morning  I  attended  mass 
with  my  host  and  his  household.  In  the 
church  a  stranger  always  gets  his  best 
impressions  of  a  community.  A  good 
many  women  and  some  young  girls  in  the 
congregation  wore  the  couvre-chef  in  place 
of  bonnet  or  hat.  This  is  a  black  kerchief 
of  wool  or  silk,  worn  in  three-corner 
fashion  and  tied  under  the  chin.  The 
dress  was  also  black.  On  several  occa- 
sions I  saw  one  of  these  black-robed 
figures  in  the  little  churchyard,  kneeling 
before  a  grave  offering  prayers  for  the 
dead.  So  much  that  one  sees  in  the 
Acadie  of  to-day  suggests  the  poem  of 
"Evangeline." 

"  Without  in  the  churchyard 
Waited  the  women.    They  stood  by  the  graves  and  hung  on 

vhe  headstones 
Garlands  of  autumn  leaves  and  evergreens  fresh  from  the 

forest." 

The   graveyard   was   a   tangle   of    wild 


nV    SAINT    MAKVS    UAV. 


35 


roses  and  other  rank-ji;rowinjr  wild  thinj^s, 
running  all  about  the  simple  monuments 
to  those  who  sleep  below.  Perhaps  these 
wild  blossoms  pay  tribute  to  tht;  dead,  and 
rise  like  truth  from  the  dust  of  those  who 
did  their  best  to  love  thiMr  neighbors  and 
serve  their  (iod. 

The  interior  of  Stella  Maris  is  rather  too 
bare  and  new  to  be  attractive  to  the  eye. 
The  three  altars  are  decorated  in  the  usual 
elaborate  fashion.  Most  fitting  amid  the 
display  seemed  the  beautiful  natural  plants; 
these  always  speak  of  their  Maker,  and 
awaken 

"Thoughts  that  du  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears." 

The  priest  in  his  fine  robes  was  impos- 
ing, and  the  altar  boys  in  their  red  and 
white  were  very  devout  in  their  many 
duties.  At  the  close  of  the  service  the 
priest  came  forward  and  made  a  short 
address  in  French.  He  told  his  hearers 
not  to  forget  that  the  next  day  would  be 
the  Fete  of  the  Holy  Virgin,  or  Assump- 
tion of  the  Virgin.  He  besought  them  to 
return  with  fervor  their  thanks  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  past  year.  This  day,  the 
fifteenth  of  August,  is  annually  celebrated 
by  the  Acadians,  who  feel  that  heaven  has 


"I 


\ 


3^^ 


■mUoLCIl    KVA.ViKMNES   COl'MKV. 


' 


especially  favonnl  tlicin  In  brliiL^iiiL^  them 
hack  from  exile  and  pcnnittin}^  them  to 
<^vu\w  as  a  people.  '\\\v.  day  itself  is 
marked  hy  relijj^ioiis  services,  and  th(i  two 
lollowin^i^  days  are  ^iven  iij)  to  festivities. 
The  p(;opl(;  jj^alher  from  all  j)arts  and  meet 
for  a  ^(.'neral  jj^ootl  time  at  the  "conven- 
tion," as  it  is  called. 

Monday  morning  as  I  walked  throiiirh 
tlu;  street,  enjoyin^r  the  lon^  perspective 
of  pretty  cottages,  a  yoiinii^  woman  at  a 
doorway  shyly  invited  me  to  enter.  I 
accepted  gladly,  for  there  is  always  a  jj^reat 
charm  about  interiors.  This  cottage  was 
very  tasty.  There  were  several  pictures 
on  the  wall  of  the  little  parlor,  mostly  in 
the  line  of  religious  art.  One  was  quite 
novel.  It  represented  a  group  engaged 
in  the  marriage  ceremony  at  the  altar. 
Below  were  signed  the  names  of  the  con- 
tracting parties  and  the  witnesses.  My 
iiostess  co'dd  not  speak  English,  but  we 
got  on  very  pleasantly.  She  took  me  into 
the  family  room  to  see  an  oleander  in 
bloom.  Here  was  a  very  pretty  buffet 
with  glass  doors,  built  into  the  wall. 
Within  were  arranged  the  glassware  and 
pretty  blue  china.  The  tiny  garden  before 
the  house  held  a  riot  of  small  flowers  and 


IIV    SAINT    MA  UN  S    HAY. 


37 


the  clark(!st  Ik )II\  hocks  I  cvct  saw,  ahnost 
black.  'I  lie  PVcMich  pe()j>l<'  must  be  very 
fond  of  this  Passe- Rose,  as  th(?y  call  it. 

At  intervals  diirinjj^  the  clay  [jeople 
wended  their  way  to  th(!  church  services. 
A  ^ood  many  hoys  and  men  appeartid  to 
havi!  too  much  time  on  their  hands,  and 
loitered  about  the?  stree^t  atul  doorsteps. 
There  was  plenty  of  work  about  tlie  houses 
and  barns,  for  the  outside  of  th(;  Acadian 
home  is  far  less  tidy  than  the  inside.  It 
is  evidently  the  women  who  are  thrifty 
and  industrious.  All  the  houses  have 
patchwork  qi  ilts  and  carefully  arranged 
sets  of  curtains.  No  window  has  less  than 
two  kinds.  On  the  floors  are  many  ruj^^s, 
some  really  artistic  in  their  construction, 
and  all  of  them  the  product  of  skill  and 
iiard  work.  Before  one  of  the  church 
altars  is  a  beautiful  xw^  in  raised  work, 
designed  and  made  by  the  young  girl 
whose  gift  it  was.  In  addition  to  all  these 
proofs  of  feminine  industry  are  the  sewing 
and  cooking,  washing  and  ironing,  for  the 
always  large  family.  Meteghan  is  a  fish- 
ing community,  as  are  most  of  the  villages 
on  Saint  Mary's  Bay,  so  we  may  not  expect 
to  see  the  well-tilled  farms  of  the  rich  dike 
country  where  the  early  Acadians   lived. 


«i 


If 

fi«i 


•w 


38     THROUGH  Evangeline's  country. 

If,  however,  the  men  and  boys  would  fol- 
low the  good  example  of  their  wives  and 
sisters,  there  would  be  a  great  change  for 
the  better  about  the  houses  of  Clare. 
Within  they  are  orderly  and  attractive,  but 
without  they  often  show  want  of  care. 

On  Monday  afternoon  I  went  with  Adele 
to  visit  the  convent  where  she  used  to 
attend  school.  A  gravelled  walk  led  up  to 
the  front  entrance.  In  the  square  vesti- 
bule were  pretty  house  plants.  Through 
the  quiet,  cool  hall  came,  in  response  to 
our  ring,  a  pefiie  sister,  whose  dark  eyes 
and  little  black  glazed  bonnet  made  her 
look  very  pale.  .She  gave  us  a  cordial 
greeting,  and  showed  us  about  the  con- 
vent. The  pupils  were  all  away  for  the 
summer  vacation.  Everything  in  the 
house  was  simple,  almost  to  austereness, 
but  the  chapel  was  daintily  pretty.  The 
room  was  all  in  white.  The  tiny  altar, 
draped  in  white,  was  adorned  with  flowers. 
At  one  side  stood  a  white-draped  image 
of  the  Virgin,  at  the  feet  the  sacred  fire, 
burning  under  a  small  shade  of  soft  red 
glass. 

The  next  morning  the  fog  which  had 
been  haunting  the  bay,  and  often  en- 
veloped the  whole  community,  had  gone. 


BY    SAINT    MARYS    15AY. 


39 


Blue  sky  and  bluer  water  made  the  world 
seem  new  again.  I  started  early  for 
Church  Point,  the  scene  of  the  Acadian 
gathering  or  "convention."  The  station, 
like  most  in  this  region,  is  several  miles 
from  the  settlement,  and  is  in  this  case 
only  a  lOugh  shed.  A  girl,  who  got  in  at 
Meteghan,  and  1  were  the  only  women  to 
alight.  There  was  no  public  conveyance 
to  be  seen,  but  the  driver  of  a  single- 
seated  wagon  came  forward  and  offered  to 
convey  us  to  the  scene  of  festivity.  Away 
we  bounced  over  sand  bars  and  close  to 
puddles,  the  mud  flying  high,  and  the 
fresh  breeze  nearly  taking  our  breath.  As 
we  approached  the  town  our  driver  became 
more  decorous  in  his  management  of  the 
reins.  Soon  a  peal  of  welcome  sounded 
from  the  church,  which  now  appeared  to 
our  left.  It  was  a  welcome  to  the  Superior 
of  the  College  Sainte-Anne,  who  was  com- 
ing close  behind  us.  We  looked  back  and 
saw  several  priests  in  a  carriage  drawn  by 
a  fine  span  of  horses.  Our  driver  drew 
his  horse  aside  to  let  them  pass  us.  The 
Superior  was  returning  from  a  visit  to 
France,  his  native  land,  and  added  to  the 
general  happiness  by  his  return  just  at 
this  time. 


II: 


M 


m 
■If  I 

n 


-If 

I 

'i: 


ii 


40       THROUGH    EVAN(;ELINES   COUNTRY. 

Church  and  college  were  decorated  with 
streamers  of  bunting,  and  presented  a  gala 
appearance.  Our  driver  dropped  us  with 
apparent  relief  outside  the  grounds  where 
the  festivities  were  going  on,  and  pocket- 
ing his  fee,  left  us  to  make  our  way.  The 
girl  was  very  kind,  and  assisted  me  to  find 
a  lady  whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  at 
Meteghan,  and  who  had  promised  to  show 
me  how  to  enjoy  the  "convention."  And 
well  she  kept  her  word!  A  direct  de- 
scendant of  the  exiles,  s'  j  recounted  with 
ready  fidelity  such  bits  of  their  story  as 
were  known  to  her,  and  presented  me  to 
others  who  could  add  their  information. 
Her  great-grandmother,  born  at  Salem, 
Massachusetts,  was  the  child  of  exiles  named 
Surette.  Like  Evangeline  and  Gabriel, 
these  married  lovers  were  taken  to  sepa- 
rate ships,  but  never  met  each  other  again 
on  earth.  The  mother  and  her  posthumous 
daughter  came  back  in  course  of  time  to 
Acadie,  but  the  hope  of  their  hearts  was 
not  fulfilled ;  the  child  was  never  to  know 
her  father,  the  wife  never  to  hear  again  the 
voice  of  her  belov^ed. 


"  Far  asunder,  on  separate  coasts,  the  Acadians  landed  ; 
Scattered  were  they,  like  flakes  of  snow,  when  the  wind  from 
the  northeast 


^w 


BY    SAINT    MARYS    BAY. 


41 


Strikes  aslant  through  the  fogs  that  darken  the  Banks  of 
Newfoundland. 

Friends  they  sought  and  homes;  and  many  despairing,  heart- 
broken, 

Asked  of  the  earth  but  a  grave,  and  no  longer  a  friend  nor  a 
fireside."' 

At  Church  Point,  on  Saint  Mary's  Bay, 
the  first  church  erected  by  the  returned 
Acadian  exiles  is  said  to  have  stood.  For 
more  than  thirty  years  after  their  return 
the  people  had  neither  priest  nor  house  of 
worship.  But  in  July,  1799,  there  came  to 
them  exactly  the  man  who  was  demanded 
by  the  peculiar  condition  of  Acadian  af- 
fairs. In  the  words  of  his  recent  eulogist.* 
the  Abbe  Sigogne  was  "  an  enlightened 
apostle  filled  with  zeal ;  a  wise  governor, 
faithful  to  the  British  government,  and 
honored  by  its  confidence ;  a  charitable 
shepherd  devoted  to  his  flock." 

LAbbe  Jean-Mande  Sigogne  was  born 
at  Tours  in  1760,  and  was  ordained  to  the 
priesthood  in  1785.  Refusing  to  swear 
allegiance  to  the  Constitution  during  the 
dreadful  days  of  the  French  Revolution, 
he  was  condemned  to  the  guillotine.  On 
the  day  appointed  for  his  death  he  made 
his  escape  into  England.     There   he  em- 

*  R.  Ph.  F.  Bourgeois,  Professor  at  College  Sainte-Anne. 


!i^- 


l*-.^v^/(rV»^**»'^> 


42 


TIIROU(;iI    EVANGELINE  S    COUNTRY. 


ployed  himself  in  teaching  French,  Latin, 
and  Greek.  Having  been  persecuted  him- 
self, he  resolved  to  devote  his  life  to  those 
who  had  also  suffered  injustice,  especially 
to  the  church,  for  whose  sake  he  had 
already  risked  so  much.  Eight  days  after 
his  arrival  at  Halifax,  the  English  capital 
of  Nova  Scotia,  he  took  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance to  the  British  Crown.  He  taught 
his  people  fidelity  to  the  government  under 
whose  protection  they  found  themselves, 
and  to  this  union  was  due  the  great  tem- 
poral success  which  attended  the  hitherto 
disheartened  and  misjudged  Acadians. 
For  forty-five  years  the  Abbe  Sigogne 
labored  among  the  descendants  of  the 
exiles  of  1755  and  the  neighboring  In- 
dians. During  twenty-one  years  he  was 
the  sole  missionary  in  charge  of  a  territory 
one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  in  extent. 
In  the  autumn  of  1844,  the  aged  priest 
was  stricken  with  paralysis  while  conduct- 
ing a  service  at  the  altar.  Three  days 
later  he  died,  beloved  and  mourned  by 
those  whose  benefactor  he  had  so  long 
and  devotedly  been. 

On  the  19th  of  May,  1892,  his  hon- 
ored remains  were  removed  from  the 
church   where  he   had  been  interred  and 


nV    SAINT   MAKVS    HAV. 


43 


placed  under  a  green  mound  in  front  of 
die  College  of  Saint  Anne.  A  white  marble 
monument,  with  appropriate  inscriptions, 
crowns  the  mound  ;  and  thither  will  go 
many  pilgrims  as  the  years  roll  on. 

The  College  of  Saint  Anne  has  but  re- 
cently been  erected.  It  is  a  fine  large 
edifice  with  modern  improvements,  and 
accommodates  about  a  hundred  boys.  It 
was  incorporated  by  Act  of  the  Provincial 
Parliament  in  1892,  and  has  power  to  con- 
fer degrees.  Saint  Anne's  was  established 
by  priests  from  France,  fathers  of  the 
Congregation  of  Jesus  and  Mary.  These 
fathers  are  known  as  Eiidistes,  from  the 
founder  of  their  order.  Saint  Eude.  They 
are  bright,  cultivated  men,  none  of  them 
old  in  appearance.  They  speak  their  own 
language  almost  exclusively,  and  are  most 
genial  in  their  manners. 

One  of  them  took  a  small  party  of  us 
about  the  college.  He  was  the  most  youth- 
ful of  the  priestly  professors,  a  mere  boy 
in  appearance.  A  broad-shouldered  fig- 
ure, a  little  above  medium  height,  an  olive 
skin,  and  gray  eyes  shading  into  black,  a 
mouth  where  sweetness  mingled  with  firm- 
ness,—  these  made  up  the  exterior  of  such 
a   son   as    might    gladden    any   mother's 


I 


'  i; 


r^" 


I 


r 


44        TIIROLTHI    FA'ANOEMNE  S    COUNTRY. 

heart.  Truth  and  honesty,  with  a  dash  of 
boyish  good-nature,  looked  out  of  the  face 
of  the  young  "  Father"  as  he  was  called 
by  courtesy,  for  he  was  not  yet  old  enough 
to  be  admitt<  d  to  the  priesthood.  And  the 
black  soutane  was  so  well  put  on,  and 
hung  so  proudly  from  the  strong,  young 
shoulders;  the  knotted  black  sash  fell  so 
boyishly  at  his  side,  and  the  low  beaver 
hat,  with  its  broad  rim  caught  up  against 
the  crown,  was  so  bewitching  when  on,  and 
so  deferential  when  doffed  and  carried  in 
the  slim,  brown  hand  !  He  spoke  no  Eng- 
lish, but  the  purest  French  came  musically 
to  our  ears  as  he  chatted  of  the  college  and 
his  work.  In  the  music-room  we  listened 
with  deliijht  as  he  sancf  a  French  chanson. 
He  is  a  poet,  too,  this  youthful  Eudiste, 
and  composed  a  beautiful  processional 
hymn  for  the  Corpus  Christi  fete,  which 
was  celebrated  on  the  i6th  of  June. 

The  college  grounds  are  not  far  from  the 
shore  of  the  bay,  and  a  path  winds  down 
to  the  lighthouse,  gleaming  in  the  sun  on 
the  day  that  I  was  at  Church  Point.  Along 
this  path  the  procession  took  its  way,  the 
young  girls  of  the  vicinity  all  in  white,  and 
bearing  flowers  in  their  hands.  At  the 
end  of  the  path,  near  the  ruins  of  the  first 


1 

'1 

i 


l!Y    SAIN  r    MAk\'  S    liAV. 


45 


church,  and  at  two  intcrvcninir  points,  were 
erected  small  bow(;rs  of  spruce  bou^dis 
called  "  R(?positori(;s."  At  these  the  pro- 
cession halted  while  a  priest  c(;lebrat(xl  a 
mass ;  at  the  last  one  the  Benediction  was 
said.  As  my  Acadian  friend  and  I  went 
on  that  August  afternoon  to  visit  the  "  Re- 
positories," the  dead  branches  of  spruce 
n-ave  out  a  spicy  fragrance  that  mingled 
with  the  sunlit  air,  like  incense  from  an 
altar.  S(;en  from  a  distanc(;  the  effect  of 
these  arches  of  reddish  brown  spruce, 
each  bearinof  at  its  summit  a  cross,  was 
very  picturesque. 

Returning  from  our  walk,  a  brief  visit 
was  made  at  the  convent,  which  is  also  a 
school  for  girls,  like  the  one?  at  Meteghan. 
Here  a  sister  entertained  us,  assisted  by 
two  dear  little  girls,  who  had  just  come 
from  Canada  to  attend  school.  They  were 
the  first  arrivals  for  the  new  term,  and 
seemed  too  young  to  be  sent  away  from 
home  care,  But  the  sisters  are  sweet  and 
kind,  and  make  their  young  charges  very 
happy.  Here,  again,  the  chapel  was  fitted 
up  with  a  white  altar  and  flowers. 

In  a  small  house  at  the  other  side  of  the 
college  live  several  sisters  of  the  Eudiste 
Order.     Four  of  them  had  recently  come 


'!  (■' 


46         lIIRoKill    i:\AN(iELIM':'s    (OLMRV. 


I  III 


from  r^'ancc,  and  it  was  easy  to  fancy  them 
as  being  a  little  homesick.  They  keep  in 
order  the  linen  of  the;  college,  and  do  other 
domestic  work.  Th(;  Superior  conversed 
very  cheerfully  with  my  companions.  She 
and  a  litde  Acadian  novice  were  the  only 
ones  at  home.  The  head-gear  of  this  order 
is  quite  elaborate.  A  stiff  white  muslin 
band  crosses  the  forehead  and  turns  away 
from  the  cheeks  with  an  I'^gyptian  effect. 
The  stiff  bow  under  the  chin  is  also  white. 
Over  the  head  from  the  white;  band  on  the 
forehead  is  gathered  a  black  veil.  From 
this  effective  frame  the  cheerful  face  of  the 
Superior,  lighted  by  its  dark,  sparkling 
eyes,  looked  out.  The  novice,  a  pretty 
maid,  wore  under  the  ordinary  black  bon- 
net a  little  white  cap. 

The  festivities  in  the  college  grounds 
went  on  all  day,  with  no  apparent  weariness 
on  the  part  '^f  the  participants.  In  the 
refectory  Ion  bles  had  been  spread  by 
the  women  of  tn  parish,  and  loaded  with 
the  things  that  constitute  a  substantial  cold 
dinner.  Everything  was  in  profusion,  and 
every  one  seemed  bent  on  eating  to  the  full 
extent  of  the  twenty-five  cents  paid  for  his 
dinner  ticket.  Meats,  vegetables,  and  bread, 
of  many   varieties;    pickles,  cakes,  of  all 


I5V    SAINT    MAkV  S    l!A\  .  47 

sizes  antl  hues,  some  with  ^:iy  raiulies 
on  top;  pies,  cheese,  tea  and  coffee, — 
all  disappeared  only  to  see  the  empty 
dishes  replenished  from  the  unfailing 
stores  brought  by  the  Acadian  housewives. 
Square  wooden  chests  stood  behind  the 
tabk;s  against  the  wall,  ready  to  yi(;ld  more 
good  things  as  the  demands  were  made. 

]\Iy  kind  Acadian  fri(,'nd  made;  arrange- 
ments for  me  to  remain  over  night  at  the 
house  of  some  of  her  relatives.  Mere  I 
found  myself  on  veritable  historic  ground. 
The  house,  quite  new  and  roomy,  was 
erected  on  the  site  of  an  older  one.  Just 
outside  the  parlor  windows  stood  those 
ruined  remintlers  of  the  early  French  set- 
tlers, for  which  I  had  learned  to  scan  every 
landscape,  gnarled  and  scrubby  apple-trees 
and  willows.  These  grew,  or  rather  sur- 
vived, upon  the  edge  of  the  otherwise 
obliterated  garden.  A  few  struggling  gar- 
den shrubs  had  outlived  the  desolation, 
and  rose  apologetically  here  and  there 
from  the  rank,  matted  grass.  The  willows 
were  wrecks, —  with  gaunt,  hollow  trunks, 
but  with  a  toppling  mass  of  foliage,  fed 
apparently  on  rich  memories  of  the  past. 
The  mistress  of  the  modern  house  has  a 
brood  of  young  children,  and  finds  no 
time  to  renovate  old  gardens. 


:' 


mumm 


timmk 


BAU!EJI!."r'""B!l 


48 


TIlKC)L(;il    rAAM.KIINKS    (OLMRV. 


The  first  hous(;  built  at  Church  Point  hy 
the  returned  exiles  stood  on  tlK^se  j^^rounds 
at  some  little  distance  from  the  present  one 
and  nearer  the  bay.  In  the  cveninjij^  three 
of  us  set  out  to  find  the  cellar  and  \v(?ll 
which  our  host  said  were  just  discernible, 
provided  we  knew  the  exact  place  to  look 
for  them.  We  wandered  on  through  the; 
lonij^,  thick  ^rass,  but  could  not  find  the 
depressions  for  which  we  sought.  Instead, 
we  found  the  i^n'(;at  rid^re  of  pebbk's  thrown 
up  by  "  the  turbulent  tides  "  of  Saint  Mary's 
Bay,  so  hiij^h  that  it  (juite  cut  off  our  view 
of  the  short;  and  the  water  on  the  other 
side.  We  clambered  to  the  summit  and 
beheld  the  bay  at  our  fe(;t.  Across  the 
water,  ruffled  only  by  the  (nenin^^^  breeze, 
lay  the  lon^  toni^ue  of  land  that  separates 
Saint  Mary's  from  the  P\mdy  Bay.  This 
land  is  Digby  Neck,  —  a  i)ortion  of  the 
main  peninsula  of  Nova  Scotia.  At  its 
southern  extremity  lies  Long  Island,  and 
between  the  two  is  the  strait  retaining  its 
PVench  name,  Pei'it  Passage.  Another 
island,  the  last  barrier  point  between  the 
bays,  is  separated  from  Long  Island  by 
Grand  Passage.     Its  name  is  Bryer  Island. 

The  tide  was  going,  and  we  strolled  upon 
the   beach.     My  companions  pointed  out 


)l 


HY   SAINT    MARYS    It.W. 


49 


the;  spot  wliLTt;  tlu.'ir  t^xilcd  ancestors,  re- 
tiirninj4'  tVoiii  Massachusetts,  had  found  a 
haven  for  their  littk;  vessel  while  they 
viewetl  the  land,  ilow  real  it  all  seemed 
as  we  stood  in  the  <;veninjj[  ''k^'^t,  under 
the;    same;  sky  and    '^^azed   ui^on   the  same 

lantlscape,  tin; 
same  but  less 
desolate;  now 
than  then  !  To 
our  right  the 
starry  lant(;rn 
of  the  lij^ht- 
li  o  u  s  e  sent 
forth  its  com- 


i.'i 


LlGIITHOt'SK,    SAINT    MARv's   BAV 


fortin<^  beams.  Across  the  bay  were  lights 
that  betokened  dwellers  on  the  narrow 
strand,  and  at  the  left  the  hamlet  of  Port 
Acadie  caught  the  glory  of  the  sun  that 
slowly  sank  to  rest.  As  we  turned  and 
reached   the  top   of  the  drift,  lights  were 


p 


50       TIIRolClI    i;\A.\(i  1:1, ink's    (OlMkN'. 

appearing  in  the  windows  ot  the  col- 
Iv.j^i',  which  was  to  b(;  ilhiininatcd  (hir- 
injr  the  cv('Ili^^^  A  jrraiid  concert  and 
f'lrc^works  w(,'r(.'  also  on  th(;  |)roi;raniinL'. 
The  Acadians  w(T(,'  indcfatijj^ahlc  in  tiieir 
enjoynKMU,  but  I  decidcnl  to  view  these 
late  festivities  from  afar.  It  was  a  Ix-auti- 
fiil  AiiL^aist  ni^ht.  Tlu"  western  sky  loiijtj 
rcitainetl  the  ^\ow  of  twilij^ht.  palin^^  from 
orange  to  amber  ere  it  changed  to  (hisk. 
The  summer  constellations  sparkled  on 
high.  Then  in  puny  imitation  of  their 
splendor  shot  up  from  the  collc!ge  grounds 
a  cluster  of  Roman  cantlles  or  a  more 
aspiring  skyrockc^t.  It  was  the  fu'st  p>ro- 
technic  display  that  this  region  had  ever 
beheld,  and  cheers  of  approbation  ro 
sounded  through  the  (juiet  night. 

The  following  morning  our  host  took  us 
to  the  real  site  of  the  first  house  at  Church 
Point.  It  was  not  easy  to  fmd  it  unless 
one  knew  where  it  was.  for  the  depressions 
are  filled  up  nearly  level  with  the  surround- 
ing field,  and  only  a  few  building  stones 
mark  the  corners  of  the  place  where  the 
old  cellar  used  to  be.  "  There  was  a  forest 
all  about  at  the  time  they  landed,"  said  our 
host  in  French.  "They  could  easily  get 
timber   for  their  houses.     And  there  was 


•a 


li 


li: 


...     Jk. 


BY   SAINT   MARYS   BAY. 


5 


fish  in  che  bay,  so  it  was  a  good  place 
here,"  he  continued.  "The  women  carried 
stones  for  the  cellar  walls  in  their  aprons." 
The  good  time  was  to  be  prolonged  for 
another  day.  As  I  sat  upon  the  doorstep 
waiting  for  a  team  to  take  me  to  the 
station,  I  could  see  groups  of  Acadians 
proceeding  along  the  highway  that  led  to 
the  college  and  picnic  grounds.  Gayly 
dressed  girls  with  bright  parasols  went  by, 
seated  in  slow-moving  ox-carts. 

"  Now  from  the  country  around,  from  the  farms  and  neighbor- 
ing hamlets, 

Came  in  their  holiday  dresses  the  blithe  Acadian  peasants. 

Many  a  glad  good-morrow  and  jocund  laugh  from  the  young 
folk 

Made   the  inight   air  brighter,  as   up   from   the   numerous 

meadows, 
Where  no  path  could  be  seen  but  the  track  of  wheels  in  the 

greensward, 

Group  after  group  appeared,  and  joined,  or  passed  on  the  high- 
way." 

Another  living  picture  from  the  poem ! 

"This  will  be  the  best  day  of  all,"  said 
my  Acadian  friend.  "To-day  they  have 
potato  soup  {soupe  a  la  patate)  for  sale 
on  the  grounds.  Could  you  not  stay  and 
try  some  of  it  ?  They  will  make  a  lot  of 
money  to-day." 

'*  I  could  stay  forever  with  les  Acadiens" 
I  replied ;  "  but  I  must  away  to  other  scenes 


m- 


f,v**>»" 


54 


THROUGH    EVANGELINE  S    COUNTRY. 


1 


—  to  the  Annapolis  Valley  and  the  real 
'  Land  of  Evangeline' ;  but  here  are  the 
spirit  and  the  race  of  that  lovely  Acadian 
maid.     All  other  places  will  be 

'  Incomplete,  imperfect,  unfinished,' 

for  in  them  all 

'  Dwells  another  race,  with  other  customs  and  language.'  " 

Since  the  day  when  the  Acadians  were 
driven  from  their  homes,  the  places  that 
once  knew  them  have  known  them  no  more. 
A  few  years  after  their  removal  large  num- 
bers of  New  England  colonists  came  and 
took  possession  of  the  rich  meadows  that 
had  been  the  fertile  farms  of  the  unhappy 
exiles. 


PART  III. 


OLD  ACADIAN  HAUNTS. 

'' I.ouis/'uri-  is   not  forgotten,    nor  Beau    Srjour    nor   Port 
Kay  air 


^•^ 


X,'  OJU-iaLim 


MliiiimiMrtfWI 


ON  THE   WAV  TO   ANNAPOLIS 


CHAPTER  I. 


ANNAPOLIS    ROVAL. 
(old    port    KOVAL   of   the     FRENCH.) 

The  journey  from  Church  Point  to  An- 
napolis is  made  beautiful  by  glimpses  of 
Saint  Mary's  Bay  and  Annapolis  Basin. 
Several  tine  bridges  are  crossed  by  the 
railway,  —  bridges  that  for  height  and  length 
of  span  are  thrilling  enough  if  the  passenger 
ventures  to  put  his  head  outside  the  car 
window  and  look  down  and  back.     As  we 


57 


*>; 


^'•*--',,*^VT'l^V>l!»iU«(»<A-M-*  . 


5S      Tiikoifiii  i':\A\(;i':i. ink's  colntrv. 

approach  the  junction  of  the  Annapolis 
River  with  the  basin,  our  longing  eyes  are 
rewarded  by  the  first  i^Hmpse  of  reaW///'^i". 
Akhough  of  a  very  unimposing  type,  they 
make  us  feel  that  we  are  now  come  into 
"the  Acadian  land"  of  the  poem.  Now 
will  we 

"  List  to  tlif  immrnfal  trailitiun," 

which  ocean,  forest,  and  "  murmuring 
pines"  relate  to  sympathizing  ears. 

ybmapolis  Roy  ah  as  its  more  aristocratic 
residents  still  write  it  when  they  date  their 
letters,  has  little  to  show  of  Acadian  mem- 
ories outside  its  old  French  graveyard  and 
its  old  French  fort.  My  landlady  having 
informed  me  that  a  funeral  was  to  take 
place  in  the  gravejard,  which  was  directly 
across  the  street,  I  went  over  in  due 
season.  The  oldest  tombstones  are  said 
to  have  been  of  perishable  material,  and  I 
found  none  with  an  earlier  date  than  1743. 
The  sexton,  who  hovered  about  in  nervous 
expectation  of  the  burial  train,  assured  me 
that  there  was  one  very  much  older,  but  he 
was  not  able  to  find  it.  Neither  was  he 
able  or  desirous  to  prevent  a  quartet  of 
gamins,  one  of  whom  was  a  darky,  from 
playing  various  pranks  about  the  edge  of 


k 

1 

m 

• 

1 

< 

.^ 

h 

rn 

k 

*  . 

3       I . 

X 

*      'J 

•i-^K 

i     \  *  ' 

W             .    »      ; 

!Z 

^>  » 

^'fc  \  S '  tt 

O 

/  •:  > 

^  ^.Oo-l 

IT. 

1 

I     '      ![a 

3 

t* 

i 

J            l>i 

> 

2 

f            %■ 

Q 

1 

A. 

Q 

^ 

H> 

< 

V  ',. - 

v. 

Ol 

< 

tfi                  / 

^,4 

*U 

J*          ' 

iS 

'1 

'<} 

H 

•  ' 

>  '.  1'   w 

W 

h 

L 

--f 

\*   -1 

PI 

M 

Bt 

s 

•'•*        '^ 

> 

M 

Ik 

1 

n 

^M 

■k 

K 

> 

m 

^A 

> 

o 

M 

H 

■  '  '% 

s 

r. 

> 

2; 

'^m 

— « 

^ 

1 

■  il 

1                     ^ 

r 

k  %.  ' 

^i.                    \ 

p 

^ 

*    _                  > 

"               1    •     1 

tM 

c» 

•  »' 

.  -^r 

BL 

.-,     ^t  ^' 

;■  ■•' 

HS 

'■  \ 

.' 

nr'' 

;  / 

• 

K: 

*«. 

b.> 

1. 

"9 

■>• 

f- 

■'    ,f 

, 

^.^-^■i 

*■ 

u 


,U 


V. 
I 


ANNAPOLIS    KOVAI.. 


6l 


the  newly  opened  grave.  He  invited  me 
to  inspect  some  bones  that  lay  mouldering 
at  the  bottom  of  the  grave,  and  turned  them 
over  with  a  stick  for  my  better  view. 

"They  must  have  belonged  to  a  French 
soldier,"  was  his  conclusion.  **  And  he  was 
a  very  big  man  too,  for  that's  a  long  bone," 
he  said,  as  he  scratched  a  little  earth  over  it. 

The  grave  had  been  opened  for  an 
aged  lady  who  was  descended  from  one  of 
the  old  French  families.  Shortly  after  the 
procession  entered  the  gate  of  the  ceme- 
tery, the  clergyman  in  his  robes,  preceding 
the  coffin,  reading  the  solemn  words  of  the 
burial  service. 

The  moat  which  surrounded  the  old  fort 
probably  enclosed  also  the  adjoining  bury- 
ing ground  and  may  still  be  traced  along 
one  side.  Near  one  end  is  a  group  of 
ancient  willows.  One  late  wild  rose,  grow- 
ing on  a  straggling  bush  on  the  summit  of 
the  uneven  terrace  that  marks  the  moat, 
seemed  waiting  to  be  plucked  and  carried 
away,  —  a  sweet  reminder  of  the  dreamy 
old  spot. 

The  fort  grounds  impress  one  by  their 
extent,  —  some  twenty-eight  acres.  They 
lie  in  the  very  heart  of  the  town,  and  are 
a  most  delightful  pleasure-ground.     There 


-•^ 


62 


Tiik()r(.ii  i:\A\(ii;i.i\i;s  corNruv. 


(  I: 


arc  many  |)ictiirc'S(iiK:  points  in  the  vicinity, 
and  tlu;  vi(nvs  of  water  and  hills  to  he  had 
from  tlie  ramparts  arc  well  worth  sceini;. 
The  mind  travels  inxoluntarily  to  tlu?  early 
s(;ttlcrs,  and  wonders  how  i\\r.  re^^ion  looked 
to  them  as  they  came  upon  it  before^  the 
foot  of  any  white  man  had  touched  its 
green  shortis, — beautiful  but  yet  a  wilder- 


I'KAGMKNT   i>F   (i|,u   TUKNCH    KoKT   AT   ANN AI'OI.IS. 

ness.  Over  the  grassy  outlines  of  moat 
and  rampart  cattle  now  browse  content- 
edly. 

All  that  r(Mnains  o(  TVench  masonry 
is  the  crumblini;-  sally-port  and  the  small 
but  solid  powder  magazine.  The  interior 
of  this  little  structure  is  damp  and  dimly 
lighted.     Its  walls  are  built  of  blocks  of 


~^ 


i! 


r 


ANNAl'oI.lS    KoVAL. 


^>5 


limc!stc)iK',  known  as  Caen  stone,  brought 
long  ago  from  I'Vance.  I)anij)iu!ss  and 
age  have  worn  the  stone  so  soft  that  one 
may  easily  mark  it  with  one's  finger  nail 
and  in  some  places  it  may  be  scraped  otf 
like  salt.  The  stone  was  originally  of  a 
creamy  white,  but  has  taken  on  tints  of 
green  and  brown,  so  that,  as  one  (inters, 
the  effect  is  most  pleasing.  No  effort  has 
been  made  by  government  to  keep  these 
historical  n^lics  in  a  state  of  preservation. 
The  matter  has  been  agitat(-*d,  but  should 
have  been  thoroughly  attcMided  to  long 
since.  The  quaint,  long  building  with 
broad  chimn(;\s,  now  occui)ied  by  tenants 
of  the  jjoorer  class,  was  the  British  bar- 
racks. The  old  I'Vench  barracks  became 
unsafe  and  wert;  taken  down  some  years 

ago. 

The   general    air   ot    Annapolis    at    the 

present  day  is  luiglish;  very  little  except 
the  natural  scen(?ry  reminds  us  of  the  Aca- 
dians.  Relics  have  been  dug  up  and  cer- 
tain rare,  archctologically  inclined  residents 
are  familiar  with  the  old  haunts  of  the 
French  people,  who  really  gave  its  historic 
and  poetic  charm  to  their  serious,  little 
British  town. 


•TT 


'"".^V^;;^"^'':. 


•^>^'V 


APPLE   BLOSSOMS,    ANNAPOLIS    VALLEY. 


CHAPTER   II. 


II 


t' 


IN    THE    ANNAI'OI.IS    VAI.I.EV. 

Some  twelve  miles  up  the  valley  from 
Annapolis  I  found  a  deliij^htful  abidinii^- 
place  from  which  to  study  the  scenic 
handlinj^  of  the  poem.  Here  at  a  farm- 
house on  the  side  of  the  South  Mountain 
I  tarried,  under  the  spell  of  the  landscape. 
For  over  a  fortnight,  during  which  I  walketl 
and  drove  with  great  frequency,  I  revelled 
in  the  beauties  of  the  Annapolis  Valley. 

66 


IN    THE    ANNAl'OI.IS    VALI.EV. 


^1 


The  valL-y  is  wide  enough  to  give  the 
right  stretch  of  foreground  as  one  looks 
across  the  river  from  either  mountain-side. 
'I'he  mountains  are  covered  with  verdure, 
and  are  fascinating  in  sunlight  and  in  fog. 
Indeed,  the  fog  effects  upon  the  North 
Mountain  are  enchanting.  Often  and 
often  I  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  old 
house,  and  looked  with  rapture  where  — 

"  Sea-fojis  pitched   their    tents,  and    mists  from  the   michtv 
Atlantic  *"    ' 

Looked   on  the   happy  valley,  but  ne'er   from  their  station 
descended." 

Driven  in  from  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  the 
great  wall  of  mist  shuts  out  for  a  time 
the  entire  upper  outline  of  the  mountain. 
Then  by  some  mysterious  process  it  is 
caught  up  like  great  rolls  of  wool  and  lies 
along  the  summit,  never  coming  down 
into  the  valley.  One  may  look  at  intervals 
for  hours,  and  always  find  some  change 
has  taken  place.  And  then  as  sunset  time 
approaches,  the  last  thin  trails  disappear, 
and  the  glory  of  purple  and  gold  touches 
the  hilltop  into  clear  outline,  growing 
darker  as  the  sky  grows  brighter. 

The   river,  too,    is    subject   to   changes 
that  make  it  interesting;-  to  the  visitor.    Af- 


'^wr 


68 


THKOL'dll    FA'ANCKI.INES    COLNTRV 


fected  by  the  Fundy  tides,  it  rises  higher 
than  an  ordinary  river,  and  is  consequently 
very  curious  to  see  at  low  tide.  Then  the; 
narrow,  shallow  waterway  lies  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  shelving  trough  of  shimmering 
retl-brown  mud,  rising  many  times  i\ut 
water's  width  above  it.  All  along  the 
river  banks  stretch  the  dikes  that  protect 
the  marshes  from  the  rushing  tidc^s,  which 
would  carry  away  their  richness.  One  may 
see,  too,  some  of  those  curious  construc- 
tions used  for  flooding  the  marshes  when 
necessary.  These  are  still  called  by  their 
Acadian  name, — aboteaux.  They  were 
made  by  binding  together  stout  spruce 
trees,  and  served  as  a  kind  of  sluiceway. 

"  At  stated  seasons  the  flood  gates 
Opened   and  welcomed   the   sea  to   wander   at   will   o'er   the 
meadows." 

The  first  French  settlers  of  the  valley 
came  from  a  part  of  T'rance  where  the  sea 
was  kept  out  by  artificial  dikes,  and  were, 
therefore,  able  to  manage  the  condition  of 
things  which  they  found  in  the  New  World. 
After  the  e.xpulsion,  the  dikes  and  other 
improvements  of  the  Acadians  fell  into 
decay,  and  when  the  English  and  New 
England  settlers  came  to  take  possession 


IN     THE    ANNAI'OLrS    VAl.LEV. 


69 


it  was  necessary  to  build  new  dikes  and 
to  repair  the  old  ones.  I^or  these  pur- 
poses they  were  obligt>d  to  employ  some 
of  the  Acadians  still  to  be  found  in  the 
country,  as  they  understood  the  work  so 
thorou.i,dil)-.  The  old  PVench  dikes  still  in 
existence  are  pointed  out  to  the  visitor 
who  desires  to  see  "everything  that  be- 
longed to  the  iTench." 


The    cellars   of    French    ho 


uses,    w 


hich 


some    of  the    older    peoj^le  remember    to 


e  seen  cjuite  clearly  defined,  have 


now 


hav 

become  obliterated,  and  o   _ 

shown    the  field  where    they  used  to ''be 


ne  may  only  be 


saw,  and  learned 
out  a  few  years 


was 


One  of  the  ancient  wells  I 
that  it  had  been  cleared 

before,  when  the  original  stone   wall    , 

found  in  good  condition  nearly  up  to  the 
top.  This  was  repaired,  and  the  old  spring 
again  fills  the  well  with  good  water,  which 
is  used  by  several  families  in  the  vicinity. 
It  was  a  pretty  bit  of  picturesqueness.  just 
on  the  slope  of  a  slight  rise   of  ground 


The 


grasses    and    vines    looked    over    its 


ion  in  the  water. 


edge  at  their  own  reflect    ..  

and  above  all  a  half-dead  apple-tree  sug- 
gested Acadian  days. 

"  Farther  clown,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  was  the  well  with  its 
moss-grown 
Bucket,  fastened  with  iron." 


! 


-vr 


■BSBI 


I 


I 


M. 


70       TIIKorcil    FA'ANCEI.INES    (OLNTKY. 

At  some  distance  back  on  th(;  farm 
where  I  was  staying  there  was  a  cave,  in 
which  many  years  aj^^o  had  been  found 
articles  that  had  belonged  to  some  of  the 
fugitive  Acadians,  who  sought  safety  in 
(light.  Such  relics  were  not  un frequently 
met  with. 

"  Many  already  have  fled  to  the  forest,  and  lurk  on  its  outskirts, 
Waiting  with  anxious  hearts  tlie  dubious  fate  of  the  morrow." 

In  one  of  my  evening  drives,  —  for  the 
mystery  and  beauty  of  the  valley  are 
enhanced  by  the  night,  —  I  saw  the 
living  duplicate  of  this  picture  from  the 
poem. 

"  Late   with   the    risinjj   moon,    returned  the   wains   from    the 
mauhes, 
Laden  with  briny  hay,  that  tilled  the  air  with  its  odor." 

And  again,  when  the  moon  was  late,  we 
saw  the  lights  moving  about  on  the 
marshes,  and  heard  the  farmers  as  they 
shouted  to  their  oxen,  and  the  creaking  of 
the  wagons  as  they  took  up  their  slow 
journey  to  the  waiting  barns. 
Once,  when  the 

"Twilight  descending 
Brought  back  the  evening  star  to  the  sky," 

I  walked  alone  to  Bloody  Creek,  crossed 
the  crazy  bridge,  and  followed  the  uphill 


IN    TIIK    ANNATOIIS    VAl.I.EY. 


71 


road  that  sciMiicd  to  run  away  to  the  red- 
gold  sky.  At  my  left  an  orchard,  fringing 
the  sloping  hill,  made  a  picture,  the  dark 
trunks  and  heavy  tops  of  the  trees  out- 
lined on  the  sky.  To  the  right  lay  stretches 
of  fertile  meadow,  through  which  the  creek 
winds  its  way  to  join  the  river.     Beyond 


APPLE  OKCHARP,    ANNAPOLIS   VALLF.V. 


rose  North  Mountain,  growing  massive  in 
the  waning  light.  But  few  houses  were  in 
view,  and  I  met  few  people  on  my  way. 
As  the  glow  of  the  sunset  faded,  I  turned 
and  came  down  again  toward  the  creek, 
where  the  shadows  had  already  gathered. 
It  was  eerie  enough,  but  I  stood  for  a 
while  on  the  bridge  listening  to  the  ripple 


*>*-»fc*L.,4.---.j^ 


72 


riik()L'(;ii  k\.\N(;ki,ines  colntrv. 


I 


! 


II* 


u 


of  the  water.  Away  up  th(;  South  Moun- 
tain, whither  I  had  b(;en  in  the  afternoon, 
I  could  hear  the  softened  rush  of  the  falls. 
Close  by  one  end  of  the  bridge  stood 
the  aj^ecl  wreck  of  an  apple-tree,  said  to 
mark  the  spot  where  those  who  fell  in  the 
lon<^-airo  fight  were  buried.  In  171  i,  a 
battles  took  place  on  the  banks  of  the  creek. 
So  many  fell  that  the  waters  ran  red  with 
blood,  and  its  name  has  ever  since  been 
a  reminder  of  the  scene  of  carnage.  The 
English  at  that  time  held  the  fort  at  An- 
napolis, and  were  met  here  by  the  F"rench 
and  their  Indian  allies. 

One  more  evenin^T  reminisc(!nce  of  the 
Annapolis  Valley  and  I  have  done.  The 
willows  are  said  to  have  at  least  sprung 
from  those  planted  by  the  French,  and, 
believing  this,  every  single  tree  or  clump 
of  trees  gives  untold  satisfaction  to  one 
who  has  learned  to  love  the  least  trace  of 
the  romantic  first  settlers.  And  when  one 
sees,  here  and  there,  the  weird  Lombards- 
poplars  that  are  so  frequently  met  with  in 
journeying  through  the  — 

"  Sunny  land  of  France," 

then  is  there  no  doubt  in  one's  mind  that 
here  in  truth  was  the  abode  of  the  "  simple 


,.  'I' 


IN     11  IK    WNAI'OMS    VALI.KV. 


/D 


Acadian  farmers"  who  "dwelt  together  in 
love."  So  in  the;  gloaming  of  a  rainy  day, 
with  the  fog  striving  to  make  way  for  the 
stars,  we  set  out  to  visit  a  row  of  willows 
that  were  considered  reliably  "Acadian." 
'I'heir  great  trunks  had  been  pollardt^d,  and 
during  long  subsequent  years  had  borne  a 
thicket  of  wootl  and  foliage.  They  were 
satisfactory  relics,  and  the  homeward  walk 
was  a  series  of  visions  of  beauty.  We 
walked  upon  the  railway,  and  from  its 
elevation  could  overlook  the  winding  river 
anil  the  dike  lands,  with  their  harmonious 
tints  of  green.  The  fog  was  thick  toward 
the  east  or  up  the  river.  The  wind  tore 
it  loose  from  the  ever-present  wall  of  the 
North  Mountain,  and  strove  to  drive  it  to 
the  bay.  Here  and  there  the  light  broke 
through  it  and  illumined  the  landscape. 
Then  in  a  brief  moment  the  rift  was  closed 
and  the  light  shut  off.  The  water  was 
placid,  and  mirrored  each  object  near  the 
bank,  most  conspicuously  the  beautiful 
trees,  —  the  dark  green  spruces  and  silver 
masses  of  willows,  the  stately  elms  and 
grotesque  apple-trees. 

Aground  in  the  shallow  river  lay  a 
schooner,  her  sails  all  down,  the  bare  spars 
looming  in  the  fantastic  light.     So  might 


76     niuoLdii  kvan<;ki.ine's  country. 

have  looked  one  of  thost;  prison  transports 
that  lay   in   wait   tor  the  sorrowing  exiles 

of  1755- 


"aground  in  the  shallow  river  lay  a  schooner. 


^^^ 


PART  IV. 


/ 


THE  POET'S  ACADIA. 

{Scene  of  the  />oe,„  of  >^  i:ra„,;,,ii,ier) 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


IIIIM 

|3.2 

I -10 


IM 

12.2 
2.0 

1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

■ 

^ 6"   - 

► 

V] 


<? 


/2 


'c^l 


c*l 


/>^ 


\> 


y 


^f/ 


//a 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


\ 


;V 


% 


V 


^ 


o 


4>. 


<^ 


"<^ 


">?)" 


% 

%>«, 


w 


Is 


w^ 


Wfs 


I 


■'S'^-m>m'^4mm£u>^: 


■■ 


■M 


ORCHARD  IN  BLOOM. 


CHAPTER   I. 


THE    CORNWAM.IS    VALLEY. 


The  scenes  depicted  by  Longfellow  are 
located  near  the  Cornwallis  Valley,  some 
seventy  miles  from  Annapolis,  and  at  the 
other  end  of  that  stretch  of  land  which 
extends  from  Annapolis  Basin  on  the 
west  to  the  Basin  of  Minas  on  the  east. 
The  work  of  evicting  the  Acadian  popula- 
tion was  conducted  simultaneously  in  four 
different  places  by  four  different  military 
commanders  acting  under  the  governor's 
orders.  Lieutenant-Colonel  John  Winslow 
of  Massachusetts  had  charge  of  the  work  at 
Grand  Pre  and  vicinity.     His  management 


79 


I 
i 


■'Ai^ftiiiiSill'iKS^: 


80       Til  KOI  (ill    EXANGEI. ink's    COUNTRY. 

was  more  successful  than  that  of  his  col- 
leagues. Although  he  resorted  to  strategy 
and  did  his  cruel  task  so  skilfully,  history 
credits     him     with     having    said    of    the 

wretched  vic- 
tims of  his  skill, 
'•It  hurts  me 
to  hear  their 
weeping  and 
wailing."  Let 
us  hope  it /mr^ 
him  enough  to 
cause  due  re- 
pentance for 
his  readiness 
to  obev  the 


APPLE  PICKING. 


cruel 


his 


orders 
superiors 


of 


The   whole 


o  r  n  w  a  1 1  i  s 


C 

Valley  is  noted 
for  its    beauty 


and  its 


agric 


u 


1- 


tural   wealth. 

It  is  often 
called  the  "Garden  of  Nova  Scotia,"  and 
with  the  Annapolis  Valley  forms  one  of 
the  greatest  fruit-growing  regions  in  the 
world.     It   was  the  French  who    first    in- 


rtta 


nmm 


THE    C()RN\VALLIS    VAI.I.EV. 


8  I 


troduced  apple  culture  into  the  Annapo- 
lis Valley  about  the  year  1633.  The  shel- 
ter of  the  two  mountain  ranges,  the  oft- 
quoted  North  and  South  Mountain,  makes 
both  valleys  particularly  favorable  for 
the  spreading  orchards  that  so  astonish  a 
stranger.  In  the  time  of  apple  blossoms, 
the  beauty   of  the   scene   can   hardly   be 


i1! 


WOLFVILLE,  NOT  FAR   FROM 
GRAND  PRE. 


imagined.  And  when  the  ripening  fruit 
glows  in  the  sun  of  late  summer  and 
early  autumn,  then  is  it  a  rich  delight  to 
breathe 

"  The  odorous  air  of  the  orchard." 

Scattered  along  the  railway  that  passes 
through  the  Cornwallis   Valley  are   many 


Mrik 


■  >Miiritiiiire-j>»7^_ 


I   ' 


82 


TIIRorciI    EVANT.EMNES    ("OL'NTRV. 


pretty  towns.  Foremost  of  all,  to  the 
eager  pilgrim  who  seeks  Acadian  shrines, 
is  Grand  Pre.  If,  however,  one  wishes  to 
take  the  many  delightful  outings  that  ma)' 
be  enjoyed  in  the  vicinity,  it  is  better  to 
locate  where  one  may  be  sure  of  a  com- 
fortable hotel  and  the  privileges  of  a  livery 
stable,  and  also  see  as  much  as  possible  of 
the  life  of  the  people.  F'or  all  these  pur- 
poses I  found  the  charming  little  town  of 
Kentville  most  admirable. 

Kentville  has  about  it  a  very  English 
flavor  that  makes  it  seem  quite  foreign. 
Here  are  settled  a  considerable  number  of 
retired  British  ofificers,  and  the  tone  of  its 
society  is  decidedly  aristocratic.  The  prin- 
cipal streets  are  lively  all  day  and  until 
late  at  night.  On  the  first  morning  of  my 
sojourn,  I  found  that  something  unusual 
was  going  forward,  and  as  I  walked  about 
saw  here  and  there  a  soldier.  Coming  in 
sight  of  the  parade,  there  was  quite  a 
gathering  of  citizens,  driving-parties  and 
pedestrians,  all  watching  with  interest  the 
movements  of  the  young  dragoons,  who 
were  mounting  and  falling  into  place  with 
an  air  of  great  importance.  They  were 
going  into  camp  at  the  Nova  Scotian 
"Aldershot,"  some  miles  distant,  and  made 


.'■a<<#i>rf.A.  .M*f,i 


s 


THE    CORNWAI.I.IS    \AI,I.K\.  85 

a  pleasing  feature  in  a  stranp^er's  view  of 
the  place. 

One  of  the  pleasant  trips  that  may  be 
taken  from  Kentville  is  that  over  the 
Cornwallis  Valley  Railway  to  Kinjj^sport. 
Kingsport  is  at  the  terminus  of  this  short 
line, —  only  fifteen  miles  in  length, — and 
is  on  the  very  edge  of  the  Basin  of  Minas. 
Kvery  native  will  say,  "Oh.  don't  go  to 
Kingsj)ort ;  get  off  at  Canning  ancl  see 
the  'Look  Off.'  That's  a  view  worth 
having;  it's  a  panorama  of  the  whole 
country  for  miles  around."  But  pano- 
ramas, however  attractive  to  the  genc.'ral 
sight-seer,  have  little  to  offer  in  the  way  of 
sentiment;  and  the  hours  that  were  spent 
on  the  shore  at  Kingsport  were  fraught 
with  quiet  delight. 

It  was  a  clear  September  morning,  and 
as  I  walked  from  the  toylike  car  of  the 
narrow-gauge  road  toward  the  maritime 
settlement  of  Kingsport,  — 

"  Pleasantly  gleamed  in  the  soft,  sweet  air  the  Basin  of  Minas." 


The  sunlight  danced  upon  the  blue  waves, 
and  overhead  the  blue  sky  was  sprinkled 
with  fleecy  clouds.  The  long  pier,  with 
its  squat    little    lighthouse,  the    low-lying 


86      rnu()L(iii  evan(;ei. ink's  colntry. 

jrrccn  meadows,  with  their  haystacks  |)artly 
swamped  by  the  hi^di  tide,  indicated  the 
l)r()ximity  of  the  Fiindy  Hay.  No  (Hkes 
were  in  sij^ht,  the  villajj^e  bein^  j:jiven  over 
to  commercial  inten^sts  rather  than  to 
farming.     A  vessel  lay  on  the  stocks,  and 


A  VESSEL   L*Y  ON  THE  STOCKS. 


the  sound  of  hammers  could  be  heard. 
The  wide  entrance  to  a  smithy  faced  the 
upper  end  of  the  pier,  and  showed  the 
glowing  fire  and  the  figures  hovermg 
about  it.  I  half  expected  to  see  some 
modern  Gabriel   and   his   little  mate  look- 


THE   COKNWALI.IS    VAl.LEV. 


«V 


inj:(    into    th(^   fascinating  place  as    in    the 
poem:  — 

"When  the  hymn  was  sung  and  the  daily  lessons  completed, 
Swiftly  they  hurried  away  to  the  forfje  of  Hasil  the  iilacksmith. 
'Ihere  at  the  door  they  stood,  with  wondering  eyes  to  behold 

him 
Take  in  his  leathern  lap  the  hoof  of  the  horse  as  a  plaything. 
Nailing  the  shoe  in  its  place;  while  near  him  the  tire  of  the 

cart-wheel 
Lay  like  a  liery  snake,  coiled  round  in  a  circle  uf  cinders." 

All  along  the  nearer  shore  ran  tl'ie  high 
bluff  of  red  clay  so  characteristic  of  the 
region.  The  white  sails  of  a  passing 
schooner  making  her  outward  way  to  the 
mouth  of  the  basin  caught  the  morning 
breeze  as  she  sped  onward  like  a  thing  of 
life.  From  the  beach  I  picked  some  bits 
of  rock,  such  as  are  found  at  Hlomidon, — 
a  grayish  volcanic  mass,  with  clusters  of 
tiny  crystals  scattered  through.  The  crys- 
tals are  colored  to  a  dull  pink  by  the  iron 
that  tinges  everything  about  the  shore. 
Near  the  pier  grew  a  stunted  bush  of 
willow  and  a  coarse  seashore  variety  of 
goldenrod. 

As  I  walked  along  the  freight  railway 
that  runs  from  the  end  of  the  pier  to  the 
station  where  I  was  to  take  the  train  for 
Kentville,  I  saw  the  full  extent  of  the 
village,  —  its  homes,  its  churches,  and  its 


88 


riiKort;!!  evanckmnes  countkv. 


s 


stores.  A  few  willows  and  one  ^aiint 
Kombardy  caught  my  eye.  Perchance 
here  too  had  bc^en  the  homes  of  — 

"  Men  whose  lives  Kli<le(l  on  like  rivers  that  water  the  wood- 
lands, 
Darkened  by   sliailows  of  earth,  but  reflecting  an  image   of 
heaven." 


CUTTING  THROUGH  AN  ORCHARD. 


CHAPTRR   II. 


GRAND    PRE. 


"  In  the  Acadian  land  on  the  shores  of  the  Hasin  of  Minas, 
Distant,  secluded,  still,  the  little  village  of  (Irand  Pre 
Lay  in    '<e  fruitful  valley.     Vast  meadows  stretche<l   to    the 

east\,  ml, 
(Jivinjj  the  villapc    its   name,  and   j)asture  to   tlocks  without 

number." 


From  Kontville  one  may  take  the  trip 
to   Grand   Pre  by  rail,  or,  which   is  more 


THE  GASPBRKAU  VALLEY. 


delightful,  drive  through   the  lovely  Gas- 
pereau  Valley.     A  pause  should  be  made 


89 


ma 


^nsmmsBsmmmm 


90 


THROUGH  EVANGELINE  S  CULNTKY. 


I 


as  one  reaches  the  top  of  the  hill  at  one 
side  of  the  valley.  He  will  behold  a 
pleasing  picture.  The  scenery  is  not 
grand  in  any  of  this  regior,  but  has  a 
quiet  beauty,  and  enough  variety  to  be 
most  ittractive  to  the  eye.  Through  the 
valle^  Hows  the  little  Gaspereau  River,  at 
whose  mouth  lay  the  English  ships,  whose 
appearance  there  brought  so  much  anxiety 
to  Basil,  the  blacksmith  of  Grand  Pre  :  — 

"  Four  days  now  are  passed  since  the  English  ships  at  their 
anchors 

Ride  in  the  Gaspereau's  mouth,  with  their  cannon  pointed 
against  us. 

What  their  design  may  be  is  unknown;  but  all  are  com- 
manded 

On  the  morrow  to  meet  in  the  church,  where  his  Majesty's 
mandate 

Will  lie  proclaimed  as  law  in  the  land.  Alas !  in  the  mean 
time 

Many  surmises  of  evil  alarm  the  hearts  of  the  people." 

As  we  entered  the  village  of  Grand  Pre 
we  drove  up  before  the  house  of  a  man 
who,  my  driver  said,  would  show  us  some 
relics  that  had  been  dug  up  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. This  he  did,  but  with  the  man- 
ner of  one  who  wondered  why  anybody 
should  desire  to  see  such  things.  The 
relics  are  undoubtedly  reliable.  They  all 
show  the  effects  of  lying  long  hidden  in 
the   damp   earth.      Their   present    owner 


l,l.lMIIII]|l»l^l,i.,^,.„Ji4llU. 


pigiw 


GRAM) 


pre". 


93 


makes  quizzical  remarks  as  he  carelessly 
hands  them  to  his  visitor.  The  long, 
rusty  key,  he  says,  was  the  key  of  the 
chapel  where  the  French  people  were  shut 
up  iDy  the  soldiers.  It  may  have  been  so. 
A  great  cow-bell,  worn  into  holes  by  the 
moisture  of  the  earth,  belonged,  so  says 


OLD  BLACKSMITH  FORGE, 


GRAND  PRE. 


this  exhibitor  of  Acadian  relics,  to  Evan- 
geline's heifer.  With  this  statement  he 
gives  a  sly  wink  to  my  driver,  and  seems 
to  be  highly  pleased  with  his  own  ingenu- 
ity. But  what  matters  a  little  scoffing  on 
the  part  of  those  who  have  no  sympathy 
with  the  traditions  of  Grand  Pre  ?  Has 
not  the  poet  given   us  this    picture,   and 


t    7 


94 


TIIROL'(;iI    EVANdELINES   COU.NTKV. 


!   1 


|l  I 


does  it  not  rise  before  us  as  we  take  the 
clumsy  bell  into  our  hands  ? 

"  Foremost,  bearing  the   lell,  Evangeline's  beautiful  heifer, 
Proud  of  her  snow-white  hide,  and  the  ribbon  that  waved  from 

her  collar, 
Quietly  paced  and  slow,  as  if  conscious  of  human  affection." 

And  then,  tempted  by  our  evident  credu- 
lity, the  showman  points  to  a  blacksmith's 
shop  a  few  yrrds  away,  and  declares  with 
mischief  in  his  eyes  that  it  is  Hasil's. 

As  we  drove  on  over  the  lon^,  white 
road  leadings  to  the  railway,  and  the  sup- 
posed site  of  the  Acadian  village  of  Grand 
Pre,  there  was  a  fine  view  of  the  Basin  of 
Minas  and  the  dikes. 

"  And  away  to  the  northward  Blomidon  rose." 

Cape  Blomidon  is  the  great  headland 
that  forms  the  terminus  of  the  North 
Mountain  range.  It  is  a  grand  feature  in 
the  scenery,  jutting  out  boldly  into  the 
basin.  Geologically,  it  is  of  great  interest. 
Almost  every  visitor  who  is  persevering 
brings  away  pretty  mineral  specimens. 
The  bulk  of  the  bluff  is  red  sandstone. 
Agates,  chalcedony,  amethysts,  and  vari- 
ously tinted  quartz  crystals  are  found. 
Indian  legends  made  Blomidon  the  resi- 
dence of  the  great  deity  Glooscap.     Here 


w 


GRAND    IKK. 


97 


h(;  held  his  court  and  kept  the  wild  ani- 
mals under  control.  At  the  cominp^  of 
the  white  man,  he  left  the  region  in  a 
great  rage,  having  first  performed  various 
miraculous  deeds.  He  it  was  who  scat- 
tered the   gems   about  Blomidon.     Some 


IW*Ac.»sW 

m  :/  >  -««*! 

'    . 

:.-*-' '-^"■.  « 

"  AWAY  TO  THE  NORTHWARD   BLOMIDON  ROSE. " 

day,    so   the    legends    tell,    he   will   come 
again  to  the  scene  of  his  former  power. 

Willows  and  Lombardy  poplars  abound 
at  Grand  Pre.  We  passed  one  fine  old 
mansion  that  might  well  have  been  the 
home  of — 

"  Benedict  Bellefontaine,  the  wealthiest  farmer  of  Grand  Pre  " ; 

for  it  seemed  to  answer  the  description :  — 


f .  ■  • 


98 


THROl'Lin    ENANGEl.INES    LULMKY. 


§  :■    i 


|: 


"  Firmly  huilded  with  raftci.*  of  oak,  ihv  house  of  the  farmer 
SiVjod  on  the  side  of  a  hih  .  om.nandiii^  tiie  sea; 

and  a  footpath 
Led    tiirough    an    orchard    wide,   and    disappeared    in    the 
meadow." 

Not  far  from  thci  station  is  the  clump 
of  willows  believed  to  mark  the  site  of  the 
church  where  tin;  unsuspectiuj^"  men  and 
boys  of  the  villa^"e  were  decoyed  on  that 
sad  September  day  of  1755.  It  is  very 
easy  to  conjure  up  a  picture  of  the  tragic 
scene. 

"  '.Vith  a  summons  sonorous 
Sounded  the  I)ell  from  its  tower,  and  over  the  meadows  a  drum 

i)eat. 
Thronged  erelong  was  the  church  with  men. 

•  •  •  ■  •  ■  • 

Then  came  the  guard  from  the  ships,  and  marching  proudly 

among  them 
Entered  the  sacred  portal.     \Vith  loud  and  dissonant  clangor 
Echoed  the  sound  of  their  brazen  drums  from  ceiling  an<l    case- 
ment, — 
Echoed  a  moment  only,  and  slowly  the  jKniderous  portal 
Closed,   and   in   silence  the   crowd   awaited    the   will   of    the 
soldiers." 

Close  by  the  church  was  the  priest's 
house,  now  marked  by  the  ancient  well, 
which  has  been  restored  and  is  protected 
by  a  white  railing.  The  destruction  of 
Grand  Pre  was  so  thoroughly  accom- 
plished that  it  has  always  been  difficult  to 
locate  the  places  of  interest.  The  Con- 
necticut colonists,  who  came  to  live  here 


fJRANI)    PRE. 


99 


about  fw'd  years  after  the  expulsion,  found 
some  fanninjr  implements  aiul  tli(;  bones 
of  many  cattle  that  hatl  perished  by  hun- 
ger and  exposure.     A  few  families  were 


OLD  ACADIAN  GKAVEVARD,  GASPEREAt'. 


found,  living  like  savages  in  the  woods, 
where  they  had  lied  to  avoid  the  soldiers. 
From  time  to  time  relics  have  continued 
to  be  discovered, — tools,  fragments  of 
farm  utensils,  and  sometimes  coins.  My 
landlord  at  Kentville  showed  me  a  bright 


I 


m  ■' 


i 


''tl'l 


lOO    'IHkOldll    FA  ANCKI.INKS   (OUN'IRV. 

yellow  /out's  d'or  with  th(^  date  1701.  It 
bears  the  clear  stamp  of  the  I'rench  kinj^^'s 
profile  and  the  lilies  of  I'Vaiice.  This 
coin  was  discovered  in  a  ploiij^h(;d  field, 
trodden  out  by  th(!  foot  of  an  ox.  What 
a  story  it  might  tell! 

Peace  now  reijj^ns  wh(irc;  onct?  the  cruel- 
ties of  war  spread  ruin  and  dc^spair.  lM)r 
the  parted  lovers,  and  for  all  those  who 
were  torn  from  their  homes  in  those  long- 
gone  days,  all  is  ended,  — 

"The  hope,  and  the  fear,  and  the  sorrow  "  ; 

but  for  those  of  US  — 

"  Who  believe  in   affection  that   hopes,  and   endures,  and   is 
patient," 

this  fair  corner  of  earth  will  always  be  — 
The  Land  of  Evangeline. 


